


Growth

by trash compactor (Sylph_Dancer)



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Allying, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Aromantic, Body Dysphoria, Body Positivity, Body Worship, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Canon Character of Color, Demisexuality, Epic Friendship, Eventual Romance, F/F, Identity, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Intersex, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Misogyny, Police Brutality, Protective Older Brothers, Puberty, Queer Character, Racism, Self-Acceptance, Sexual Harassment, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-03-01 21:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2787971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylph_Dancer/pseuds/trash%20compactor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People grow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Girly Hips

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Growth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2497973) by [KudaKano](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KudaKano/pseuds/KudaKano). 



> Originally by KudaKano, reposted with their permission.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written by KudaKano. Hiro hits his growth spurt and starts getting harassed. Protective Tadashi and very self-conscious Hiro! (AU where the fire never happened) (No spoilers)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags may be added as the story progresses.

Hiro was very busy with school and he hadn’t noticed at first that he’d grown taller.  It was his third month at San Fransokyo Tech and he was too wrapped up in his classes and projects to focus on much else. Homework wasn’t really a big deal.  Most of the kids were behind on it, including Tadashi, but Hiro usually got it done the day it was given out.  It was easy and he liked to get it over with so he could have more time to experiment with his robotic designs. He had so many ideas he wanted to work on, including advancements on his microbots. He was usually working on several different projects at once and his space in the workshop was littered with drawings and random materials. 

In fact, he barely left the school’s workshop. If it weren’t for Tadashi coming to get him before they walked home, Hiro would probably just spend the night there.

Hiro was walking towards Wasabi’s tool desk to borrow a wrench when he accidentally bumped into Gogo. The girl patted his shoulder in apology but he stopped in his tracks and stared at her because he just now realized that her eyes were level with his own.

“Gogo…did you get shorter?” Hiro asked without thinking.

The girl popped her gum and quirked her head to the side, fixing him with a funny look. “You’re the one going through puberty, robot boy.” She replied with a smirk.

Hiro blinked and then looked down at himself. He couldn’t believe he was now the same height as Gogo. He heard Tadashi laughing as the older Hamada walked up behind him. “Haven’t you noticed you’re getting taller, Hiro?” Tadashi asked before handing the boy a sandwich.

Hiro’s stomach grumbled as soon as he smelt the food and he immediately started shoving it into his mouth.  He would probably forget to eat altogether if Tadashi wasn’t constantly bringing him meals from the school café.

“f-ink I’ll get as f-all as –ou?” Hiro asked with a mouth full of food.  He was now comparing himself with Tadashi and using his hand to mark his exact height against his brother.

“Maybe even taller.” Tadashi chuckled and handed the boy some napkins. “Growth spurts are pretty surprising. You could grow as tall as Honey Lemon.”

Hiro swallowed and his eyes widened. “No way!”

He was excited now.  He was used to getting funny looks from people for being the shortest member of the school, though by now everyone knew he was a genius fourteen year old, it was still a little embarrassing when he had to use a stool in the library or when the professors couldn’t see his raised hand behind much taller students.

He wanted to look like he fit in with the rest of the school, but even more so, he wanted to look like Tadashi.

They were brothers, so Hiro was bound to grow into the same body type, right?

* * *

A week went by and none of Hiro’s clothes would fit him. He could barely button his shorts closed and his belly could be seen underneath every shirt and sweater.

Tadashi walked in on him just as he was trying on one of his big brother’s shirts.  Hiro smiled stupidly and then puffed out his chest, causing the shirt collar to slip over his shoulder.

“I think you’ve still got a few years before you can start barrowing my clothes.” Tadashi said with a laugh.

Aunt Cass took him shopping later that day. Apparently she had been saving up money specifically for when Hiro hit his growth spurt.

“Your older brother just about sucked my wallet dry when he started growing.” She explained in the car. “I had to buy him new pants every other week! Well, not this time. I’m prepared for you.” She stuck a finger at Hiro and he smiled.

He was alive with excitement as they entered the clothing store.  He was practically skipping along and his aunt was constantly smacking his hands away as he tried to touch everything in the store.

“College men don’t play with the clothing racks.” Aunt Cass reminded him as she pulled him towards the boy’s section.

She had him try on jeans because they were more appropriate for school but Hiro’s enthusiasm died when he tried on the first pair in his size.

“Those are so cute!” His aunt stated while he stared at himself in the mirror. Hiro frowned and rotated his lower half while inspecting them. He didn’t like the way these jeans hugged his hips…they looked…

“Aunt Cass…these pants make me look like a girl.” Hiro replied.

“Oh, I don’t think it’s the pants sweetie.” She snickered and patted him on the thigh. “I think you’ve got genes from my side of the family.

Hiro started up at her in horror and she chuckled.

Hiro ripped those jeans off and tried on another pair but this one fit exactly the same.  He took those off and tried on every single pair of pants in his size but every single one made him look…girly.

Aunt Cass ended up buying him four pairs of jeans and a pile of shirts but Hiro was no longer excited when they got home.

He tried on his new clothes again in the bathroom and just started at himself in the mirror.  It wasn’t the clothes that were making him look feminine, it was his body.

He was hoping that his shoulders would grow broader like Tadashi’s, but they hadn’t grown at all like his hips had.  His hips had grown as wide as his shoulders, but he was still a toothpick in the middle, so it caused him to look very…curvy. And if that wasn’t bad enough, his arms were still thin like string beans but his thighs had gotten thicker just like his hips. He honestly looked more like Aunt Cass than he looked like Tadashi.

He was still starting at himself when Tadashi walked into the bathroom.  His brother paused, prepared to compliment Hiro on his new clothes but he looked at the boy’s jeans and his eyes widened.

 “Whoa…you look—”

“—Like a chick,” Hiro finished for him. Seeing Tadashi next to him in the mirror, all broad and masculine, made him feel twice as bad and his shoulders deflated.

 “It’s not so bad.” Tadashi stated. “Maybe you’ll get some free drinks.” Hiro turned and punched him in the arm and Tadashi laughed. “I’m kidding!  Honestly Hiro, you don’t look bad at all!” He walked up behind him and placed a large hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Besides, you still have a lot of growing to do. You could look completely different in a few weeks.”

Hiro nodded, but he still had a scowl on his face.

* * *

Tadashi seemed determined to cheer him up, and they ended up going out to eat that night.  Hiro didn’t feel like being out in public, but his brother had insisted.He was very self-aware at first as he walked through the restaurant in his new clothing, but Tadashi started talking about school and soon they were both wrapped up in conversation.

 “Did you ever have the duck teacher?” Hiro asked resulting in a bark of surprised laughter from Tadashi.

 “I don’t remember any of my freshmen professors having feathers, no.” His brother chuckled.

 “I had him as a sub in Robotics Lab today.” Hiro scrunched his face up and puckered his lips out.  “He looks exactly like this.” Tadashi covered his mouth to try and suppress his laughter as Hiro continued with the impersonation. “Don’t forget to wear you mask when using the welding torch, Mr. Hamada!” Hiro stuck his elbows out like wings and quacked.

Tadashi chuckled as they both took a seat at an empty booth. He took his hat off and set it on his knee. “Wait till you have Professor Baboa.” Tadashi said. He straightened and held his arms out, adopting a very cautious expression. Hiro was already laughing. “S-s-s-s-stop n-now s-students, t-the c-c-c-chemicals.” Tadashi’s stuttering turned into laughter and Hiro’s voice rose in pitch. “He’s a really good teacher, though!” Tadashi corrected himself, not really wanting to talk bad about his professors.

 “Well, so is the duck teacher, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s a duck.” Hiro laughed and wiped at his eyes.

They were still snickering when someone came up to take their order. “Can I get you something to drink, cutie?”

Hiro did a double take when he realized the question was directed at him and not Tadashi. He was even more surprised when he saw that their server was a boy in his late teens.  He had spiked, blue-dyed hair and several piercings in his nose and ears and he was looking at Hiro with a suggestive smile.

Hiro’s eyes widened in surprise and he let out a bewildered laugh. “Wow…definitely something with alcohol.” He replied sarcastically. However, the teen seemed to take him seriously and grinned wider.

 “I suppose I could forget to ID just this once,” The teen replied.  “I could mix you up something real tasty and-“

 “Bring us both a soda, please.” Tadashi interrupted him.  His words were polite but his tone was harsh. Hiro looked up in surprise to see his brother glaring at the blue-haired teen with narrowed eyes.

The server met Tadashi’s gaze with a glare of his own before he turned to Hiro with a sweet smile.  “I’ll be right back.” He then twirled around and sauntered back to the employee area. Tadashi watched him leave with a scowl.

 “I thought you were joking about the whole free drinks thing.” Hiro grumbled.

 “I was,” Tadashi replied.

Hiro swallowed and brought his arms close to himself. His happy mood disappeared and he stared accusingly down at his new clothes.

 “It’s not you’re fault we got a creepy waiter, Hiro.” Tadashi said quietly when he noticed the boy’s movements. The older Hamada was having fun seeing Hiro talk lively and be himself.  It was hard not to be angry with the waiter for instantly killing the boy’s mood. Tadashi frowned as he watched Hiro picking nervously at his nails and scoot further into the booth in an attempt to hide.

He’d never seen the Hiro look so…self-conscious.

 “I watched Gogo get hit on by a waiter once,” Tadashi stated to break the silence.

Hiro smiled up at him curiously, knowing that Gogo did not take nicely to advances from boys. “And?” Hiro pressed.

 “How do you think she reacted?” Tadashi asked while leaning into the table.  He had a mischievous glint in his eye.

 “Um, knowing Gogo, I would think she would’ve told him off.” Hiro replied with a chuckle.

 “Oh, she didn’t say anything,” Tadashi laughed. “She just stood up, grabbed him by the shoulder and kneed him in the crotch so hard he fell on the ground crying.”

Hiro burst into laughter and then covered his mouth when he remembered they were in a public area.“Then what happened?” Hiro asked. His face lit up and Tadashi smiled.

 “Nothing, she just sat back down and continued eating.” They were both laughing now and Tadashi was struggling to continue his story.

 “The other waiters…” He paused to catch his breath between laughs.  “The other waiters had to pick him up and take him to the back of the restaurant, he was making a scene.”

 “I’ve got to ask her about that tomorrow.” Hiro snorted and wiped his eyes. He fell silent when he noticed their waiter return to their booth with a tray of drinks.The teen set a soda in front of Tadashi but for Hiro he set down a bright green martini glass with a lime and an olive sticking out of it.

Hiro stared at the drink with wide eyes and then looked back and forth between his brother and their flamboyant waiter. Tadashi stared at the glass, his face held a look of surprise mixed with irritation. Then he looked up and fixed the waiter with a sharp stare.

 “Did you just serve alcohol to a fourteen year old?” He asked.

The teen shrugged and then winked at Hiro. “Maybe you should take a sip and find out.  I made it special.”

Hiro looked away and stared into the table, stunned. Tadashi smiled bitterly and paused to brace his hands against the table, as if to collect his thoughts. “Alright then…can you send out a manager, please?” He spoke with sarcastic enthusiasm.

 “Whatever,” The waiter replied before leaning in closer to Hiro. “I’ll see you around, cutie.”

Hiro leaned away from him with a mortified expression but the waiter drew even closer.  It was only when Tadashi rose to his feet threateningly that the teen retreated and walked quickly back into the kitchens. Tadashi sunk back into the booth and shook his head in amazement.

 “Let’s just go.” Hiro said quietly. Tadashi studied the boy and frowned at how uncomfortable he looked.  He had his arms wrapped around himself and his knees pulled together. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Tadashi tried to think of something to cheer him up but then he sighed realizing that coming to this restaurant had only made Hiro feel worse. “Okay.”

Tadashi stood up and left some money on the table to cover their drinks. Hiro stayed close to him as they walked out and Tadashi put a comforting hand on the boy’s back.  “Don’t let some jerk make you feel bad.” He said softly as he guided his brother out the door.

Hiro didn’t reply. They walked home in silence.

* * *

Tadashi was hoping that Hiro would feel better after a good night’s rest, but the boy’s attitude remained bitter when they awoke for school the next morning. His expression was glum as he slipped into some new clothes and examined himself. The jeans he had on now were tight on his legs because none of the baggier pairs had fit him and he swore his hips looked even wider than they did last night. It didn’t help that the long sleeved, black tee he wore was tight on his waist and made him look extra curvy.

 He didn’t want to hurt Aunt Cass’s feelings, but he really should have double-checked these shirts before he let her buy them.

Tadashi was waiting for Hiro when the boy walked down the stairs and into the café.  He was about to compliment Hiro’s outfit but the gloomy expression on the boy’s face made him bite his tongue and direct his attention to the lovely ceiling tiles.

Aunt Cass hugged them before they left. She squeezed Hiro excitedly and straightened his shirt.  “Look at my cute little college man!” She cooed, and Hiro grimaced.

 “See you, Aunt Cass.” Tadashi said as they shuffled out the door. He was eager to get to school, thinking that being back in class would help put Hiro’s mind at ease. He frowned when he noticed how closely Hiro was walking next to him.

Usually the boy was all over the place, running around and kicking at leaves.  He always jumped onto the hand railing when they walked over the bridge and balanced his way across but today he was like a statue.  He had his book bag pulled close the side and he stared at the ground as they walked.

Tadashi leaned over and picked up a pinecone before tossing it in Hiro’s direction. It bounced off of the boy’s head and he blinked and looked over at Tadashi in surprise.  His eyes narrowed playfully.

 “Oh, real mature, college student,” Hiro said.

Tadashi grinned when he saw the boy lean down to start gathering ammo. Then Tadashi was running forward and dodging pinecones as they came sailing towards his head.

Hiro eventually caught up to him but since he was out of ammo the boy jumped onto Tadashi’s back and hooked his legs around his brother’s waist. “Surrender!” Hiro shouted and bit into his brother’s shoulder.

Tadashi mocked a cry of pain and then started laughing as he brought his hands down to Hiro’s legs to keep the boy in place. Hiro was lanky, so he wasn’t very heavy, but for a moment Tadashi was taken aback by how thick Hiro’s thighs were until he remembered the boy was hitting his growth spurt.

He was definitely getting genes from Aunt Cass’s side of the family.

Hiro giggled and snaked his arms around Tadashi’s neck. He let himself be carried into the school’s courtyard until someone whistled loudly in his direction. He scrambled off of Tadashi’s back and spun around in alarm. His brother looked back at him in concern and then smiled sympathetically.

 “That…probably wasn’t directed at you,” He stated.

 “Right.” Hiro nodded, but his back was straight and his eyes were searching around wildly.  He didn’t see any girls walking near them.

They parted since they attended different classes and Tadashi watched as Hiro quickly walked down the hallway towards his first class. His brow furrowed when he noticed a few heads turn, random eyes scanning up and down Hiro’s form.

* * *

Tadashi was finding it hard to focus though his classes as his mind kept drifting back to his little brother. Maybe Hiro would feel better once he got to his favorite class, Robotics Lab.

Tadashi’s third lesson had ended early, and he snuck off to see how his brother was doing.

He peeked his head into the Robotics Lab window and searched the classroom. He smirked when he saw the substitute teacher who surprisingly did look like a duck, but he frowned when he couldn’t spot Hiro. He was starting to wonder if the boy had skipped class until he spotted him in the back row of seats.

Usually Hiro was towards the front and standing on his chair so that the professor could see his raised hand, but today he was sunk back, practically invisible.  He had his bag pulled over his lap and his head was down.  He didn’t raise his hand once during the entire lecture.

Tadashi rested his head against the window and continued watching as the boy doodled absent-mindedly in his notebook. The first few months of school had been great for Hiro. He loved it and was excited to be there, just as Tadashi had expected him to be.  He loved being amongst other people who had similar interests and he enjoyed attending classes that pushed him to go further with his ideas. He had perfect grades in every class and since he always got his homework done early, he was constantly working on extra projects. Tadashi couldn’t be more proud. But today was the first day Hiro looked miserable.

Tadashi sighed and tried to think of a way to help boost his brother’s confidence. He couldn’t come up with anything and simply waited for the class to end and met Hiro at the door. He chose not to ask Hiro about the rest of his classes as they walked down to the labs to meet their friends.

* * *

Apparently the gang didn’t have much to work on because they were huddled in a circle chatting when the boys approached.

Honey practically shrieked when she saw Hiro and she instantly ran up to him. “Hiro, you look so cuuuuute!” She yelled as she kneeled down and pulled the boy into a hug. Hiro’s cheeks burned, and he smiled nervously as the girl squeezed the life out of him.

 “Wow!” Fred stated in surprise as he looked up from his comic book.  “I thought you were Gogo for a second,” He said while looking Hiro up and down.

Wasabi smacked Fred’s beanie of his head and Hiro sighed and moved his bag forward to cover his waist.

Gogo walked up to him and rested an elbow on his shoulder. “And what’s wrong with looking like a girl?” she questioned him. “Girls are the tougher gender,” She stated, and brought her fist forward.

 “There wouldn’t be anything wrong with it if I actually was a girl.” Hiro grumbled.

Tadashi gritted his teeth and then smiled sheepishly at their friends, silently asking for help.

 “It’s okay Hiro, I had a tough time with puberty too,” Honey stated as she hugged the boy’s arm.

Hiro looked up at her in confusion.  “But you’re beautiful.” He said it in such a matter-of-fact tone that Honey blushed and smiled sweetly at him.

 “My growth spurt was a train wreck, though!” She stated enthusiastically and gestured with her hands. “I got teased all the time! They used to call me the human walking stick.” She stood up and spread her arms out. “It took a few more years before I grew into this masterpiece!” She snorted and giggled into her hand. “Just kidding!”

Hiro laughed and then Wasabi walked up to him. “Honey’s not the only one, I got teased a lot when I was growing up,” Wasabi stated.

Hiro quirked up his eyebrow and gazed up at the man’s muscular physique.  “No way.”

 Wasabi grinned and patted his chest. “It’s true! Before I hit my growth spurt I was just a string bean like Tadashi here.” He poked Tadashi in the arm and the older Hamada chuckled and swatted him away.

 “Wow…puberty really works wonders.” Hiro said before looking over and Fred and Gogo.  “What about you guys?”

Fred set his comic down and grinned.  “Oh I always got picked on at school, but it wasn’t for how I looked.” He gestured to the issue of Giant Mutant Alien Men he was reading. “It was for talking about comics all day.” He then pointed a finger at Gogo.  “But I’m pretty sure everyone was too afraid to pick on Gogo here.”

Gogo smirked and crossed her arms.  By her expression, Hiro assumed that Fred was correct. Tadashi smiled warmly as he noticed Hiro’s mood start to change.

They continued joking around with each other before a girl with a camera walked up to them and greeted the odd group of college kids.

 “Hello!” She smiled nervously and walked up to Tadashi. She had blonde hair that was pulled back into a braid and her face was littered with freckles. She wore a San Fransokyo sweater with a pink, frilly skirt. “I’m taking pictures of student couples for a Valentines Day project.” She stated with a nervous laugh. “Would you mind if I took your picture?” She held her camera up towards Tadashi.

Tadashi looked surprised and started shaking his head. “Oh, I’m not really…” He trailed off and looked at Honey and Gogo, wondering who had been mistaken as his girlfriend. However, the girl soon turned and gave Hiro a huge smile.

 “I saw you two around campus today and I think you’re just an adorable couple!” She looked back and forth between Hiro and Tadashi.

The group went silent as what she said sank in and then Fred burst into laughter.  He fell out of his chair and continued laughing on the floor.  Wasabi scolded him at first but then he started chuckling, voice slowly growing in volume.

 “Unbelievable,” Hiro stated.  He was frozen in place, completely dumbfounded. Honey and Gogo couldn’t help but smile and even Tadashi was using his fist to try and muffle his laughter.

The poor girl suddenly recoiled and looked at the group in confusion. “I’m a boy!” Hiro jumped in front of her and used his hands to pull his hair back, showing off his thick eyebrows.

The girl went pale and her face melted in horror. “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” She apologized.  “B-but you know there isn’t anything wrong with being homosexual.” She tried to save the situation and only made it worse.

Gogo was slapping her leg and laughing out loud now and Honey was trying to hide her giggles behind her purse. Hiro smacked himself in the forehead and Tadashi walked forward and placed a strong hand on the girl’s shoulder.  He looked down at her with sympathy.

 “He’s my brother,” Tadashi explained with a gentle smile.

 The girl blinked and was suddenly blushing like mad; her eyes were wide and regretful.  “I’m so sorry!” She practically screamed and Tadashi patted her on the shoulder, still laughing.

Eventually the girl was too embarrassed to be in front of them and she scurried off, clutching her camera desperately. “I’m glad you’re all enjoying yourselves.” Hiro stated as he spun around and looked at his friends accusingly.  They were still laughing and trying to catch their breath.

 “Okay, but you have to admit, that was a hilarious.” Fred stated as he picked himself off of the floor.

Hiro turned towards his brother with a scowl. “Can we go home now?”

Usually they hung out at the school for a bit longer. They would either get wrapped into a conversation with their friends or stick around for a few extra hours to work on their projects but Tadashi could tell that Hiro was having a bad day and just wanted it to end. They said goodbye to their friends and started walking home. This time, Hiro kept his distance from his brother.  Tadashi assumed it was because he didn’t want to be mistaken as his brother’s girlfriend again.

Tadashi was about to tell him that it was a common misunderstanding but…it really wasn’t common and it probably wouldn’t have happened a few months ago when Hiro still looked like a little kid.

 He sighed and broke the silence as they walked. “Since when does it matter what look like, Hiro?” Tadashi asked but Hiro glared at the ground and simply drew his book bag closer to his body. “You’re brilliant! You’re an absolute genius and a fantastic student!”  Tadashi’s voice grew softer with sincerity. He was trying his best to raise the boy’s confidence. “But now you’ve grown taller, you barely look any different, and you’re-“

 “That’s easy for you to say,” Hiro interrupted him. The boy’s eyes met his older brother’s for a moment. They weren’t angry or filled with venom they just looked…hurt.

Tadashi sighed and went silent and as they continued walking. Tadashi didn’t reply because Hiro was right. He had no idea what his little brother was going through. Tadashi’s growth spurt had been different. He couldn’t come up with a single idea to make the boy feel better and frowned bitterly at his recent lack of creative thinking.

* * *

Hiro wanted nothing more than to go to his room and curl up in bed but when they reached the café, they could see that Aunt Cass was swarmed with customers and she greeted them with a tight smile and begging eyes. She needed their help.

Hiro groaned as he retrieved an apron from the closet, quickly tying the strings around his back.  He assumed it looked just perfect on his brand new, girly waist. Tadashi did the same and started taking customer’s orders.

Hiro walked up to the counter and began preparing drinks and after a few minutes he actually felt better.  It was kind of nice to have a task to distract him from his crappy day and soon enough he was smiling at customers and greeting people at the door.

Aunt Cass passed him with a tray full of lattés and she used one hand to ruffle his hair.  “Thank you so much for helping!” She stated before rushing off to a table. Hiro smiled and filled up the next batch of drinks.

The café was busy for a few more hours but it eventually settled down and the three off them worked together to get the place cleaned up. They only had a few customers left.Tadashi was sweeping the floors and Hiro was busy wiping down tables and collecting dirty dishes.

Hiro was walking back towards the counter with a tray full of half-empty drinks when he felt a thick arm circle his waist. It stopped him in his tracks, causing all the dishes on his tray to slide forward and crash into the floor.  Hiro’s head spun around in shock and he stared at the person who had grabbed him.  It was an older man, probably in his late thirties, with grayish hair and a creepy, wrinkly grin.

The man’s arm lowered to graze against Hiro’s backside and the other hand came up and slid underneath Hiro’s apron to slowly caress his inner thigh.

Hiro knew quite a bit of self defense moves from Tadashi, but he was so caught off guard that he couldn’t move.  He simply stared, frozen in place as the man pulled him closer and rubbed his face against Hiro’s hip with a smile.

Tadashi must have heard the sound of the dishes breaking because he was there a second later.  He grabbed the man’s wrist firmly and twisted it before tearing it away from his younger brother.  The man cried out in pain but Tadashi continued dragging him out of the café and promptly shoved him out the door.

Hiro was on the floor, trying to clean up the broken dishes when Tadashi came running back to him.

 “Are you okay?” His brother asked with a worried expression.

 “P-peachy.” Hiro replied. He was trying to sound sarcastic, but his voice was shaking a bit.  He took a deep breath to calm his racing heartbeat.

Tadashi studied him before gently talking a piece of broken plate out of Hiro’s quivering hands and pulling the boy in for a hug. Hiro sighed and rested his head against his brother’s shoulder until his pulse slowed down and he could speak normally.

 “I’m fine, really.” Hiro said as he pulled away from Tadashi’s arms.  “I just wasn’t expecting to deal with any drunken old men today.” He bit his lip and continued picking up broken dishes.

 “You should never have to deal with drunken old men.” Tadashi stated with a humorless laugh.

They continued cleaning until the café was completely spotless and ready for the next workday.  Hiro helped Aunt Cass put the dishes away and was thankful that she hadn’t seen the old man groping him.  He didn’t want her to worry and hereally didn’t feel like talking about it.

Tadashi stopped him at the foot of the stairs just before he retreated to his bedroom. “Are you sure you’re okay?” His brother asked. His eyes were full of concern and they were watching his expression carefully.

 “I’m fine,” Hiro grumbled.  “I’m just ready to grow out of this stupid body.” He walked up the stairs without another word.

Tadashi watched him go with a sigh.  He sunk down on the stairs and scratched Mochi behind the ear as the cat rubbed up against his leg. It would be different if Hiro was just unhappy with the way he looked.  But the boy had already been harassed more than once since his body started changing.  No wonder Hiro was becoming discouraged.

Tadashi had to think of a way to boost his brother’s confidence…

But how?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know that KudaKano was kind of on the fence about making this Hidashi and maybe some of you were thinking that it wouldn't go past brotherly love. i just want to tell you now that I'm going to make it Hidashi and maybe throw in some dirtiness and whatnot, so if you're not into that, please don't continue to read this. Sorry. 
> 
> (Just kidding. No, I'm not.)


	2. Mechanical Gestures of Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiro makes a discovery, and Gogo buys two cups of hot chocolate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i'm making this honeygogo and none of you can stop me)

 Two months had passed since the incident with the drunken old man, and ever since, Hiro refused to stop fighting his body.

He'd spent most of his time locked away in the lab at the house, refusing all entry and only sneaking out to grab leftovers from the fridge. He'd tried working out, lifting his brother's weights and running on Aunt Cass' treadmill, but the muscle he gained did nothing but accent his feminine curves, so he'd stopped and tried other methods.

It's not until Hiro found that his chest had begun to swell slightly that he worried that it was more than just genes from Aunt Cass' side of the family.

Half-naked, wearing a pair of too-fitting jeans and dirty socks, he stared down at his chest in nervous fear and anger, poking irritably at the tiny protrusions. He was sure they weren't even large enough to be considered breasts, barely even pubescent ones, but he repressed a shudder at the thought of them growing any bigger.

“This isn't supposed to be happening, “ Hiro whispered in frustration. “Why won't you _grow right?”_

He sat down hard in his chair, putting his head in his hands and letting out a shaky breath. There had to be some explanation to this; he just had to find what it was.

But how? The nearest hospital was three miles away, which admittedly wasn't much of an issue, but with classes and homework taking up his time, nosy friends and an overprotective brother watching him with hawk's eyes, and a new body that made him nervous walking on the streets, Hiro doubted he'd be able to secretly make an appointment and disappear for hours without anyone noticing. The internet may have its uses, but even the advanced technology Hiro and Tadashi had developed for their lab couldn't give Hiro an actual diagnosis. It would take weeks—months, perhaps—for Hiro to develop something new, and it certainly wasn't like he could sneak parts into the house without Aunt Cass or Tadashi noticing large pieces of metal hanging around.

“Hiro? Are you in there?”

 _Speak of a gaki, and one shall appear,_ Hiro thought dryly. _Maybe if I give it segaki, it'll go away._ “Yeah, Nii-chan?”

“Dinner's almost ready, if you want to come down and eat.” Tadashi's voice was hesitant. “It's your favorite.”

Aunt Cass' wings, Hiro thought, eyes widening, and his mouth began to water. He shook his head fiercely. _Nice try._ “I'm not hungry. I'll come down to eat later.”

He could hear Tadashi smoldering on the other side of the door and sensed his brother's hand on the door. “Hiro …”

“Tadashi, I'll be fine,” Hiro said shortly, turning back to his desk, fingers flying over the screen. “I just need to finish the last of my homework. Okay?”

A pause, and then Tadashi said casually, “We were going to watch Tech Wars. The latest episode is premiering during dinner. I think it's a special episode.”

Hiro's hands froze over the screen. “I …. I'll be fine.”

“If you're sure.” He could hear Tadashi leaning against the door, victory in his tone. “Well, if you want, there'll be fried mochi for a snack. Aunt Cass bought leftovers from Mr. Sakamoto, since he didn't sell his stock for the day. If you hurry now, she'll give you one fresh out of the pan. I think she's frying them up now.”

“ _What?!”_ Hiro sprinted to the door and flings it open, chest rising and falling in excitement.

Tadashi, leaning against the doorframe, raised an eyebrow at his brother's appearance, and Hiro flushed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Having fun, I see.”

“Shut up, nerd,” Hiro mumbled, tightening his grip, and Tadashi's features softened. He moved forward slowly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You need any help with that homework?” he asked softly, and tilted Hiro's chin up gently, sliding his hand back to trace the shell of his ear. Hiro's face burns.

“I'm fine.” He opted for a forced smile and cringed when Tadashi's real one flickered. _Aaand into the hole._ “Shouldn't I be the one offering help?” he tried, and Tadashi rolled his eyes, ruffling his brother's hair.

“Riight, right. Except I'm not the one who falls asleep in Biology.”

 _There's your shovel. Start digging!_ “That was only last Tuesday, plus I already know all of the stuff!” Hiro latched on desperately. “You know Biology is my weakest science, I'm taking the sophomore course for it, and all it is is just review from high school, it's not like I don't know that mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, and besides, I still have an A in that class, he thinks I'm the greatest thing since snow pea crisps—”

“Hiro,” Tadashi interrupted quietly, and, before he could dance away, warm, familiar arms encircled his waist and pulled him into a tight embrace. Hiro squeaked, and Tadashi rested his cheek atop the fluff of his head. “You're getting so big,” he murmured, and Hiro tried to steady his breathing, hiding his slowly reddening face in soft cotton of his t-shirt. It's true, after all—this time last year, his face would have been smothered in the center of Tadashi's chest, but now he can just peek over his shoulder.

 _If I were growing correctly, I'd be broader and stronger, too._ “I know.” Hiro extracted himself from his brother's grip. _Just like you._ “Go ahead and grab a mochi for yourself. I'll be right behind you.”

Tadashi sighed and darted forward to cup Hiro's face in his hands, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Hurry up, okay?” he said quietly, ruffling his hair.

 _Not fair,_ Hiro wanted to scream. “O-okay.” His brother nodded and left, casting him a worried glance over his shoulder, and Hiro turned away, unable to look him in the eye.

Hiro shook his head with a defeated sigh, reaching out to grab his shirt and tug it back on. Whatever was going on, he needed to find out fast. He wasn't sure how he could deal with this … this body of his until he knew what was wrong with it.

* * *

“But none of this is actually helping Hiro,” Tadashi complained, leaning back against the desks that lined the walls. “I feel like I'm just standing around and doing nothing while he gets—leered at and groped at by weird old men.”

“Tadashi, the kid is fine.” Wasabi gestured vaguely, leaning down to further inspect his tools. “As strange as this may seem to you, Mr. Epitome-of-the-Brother-Complex, Hiro's independent enough and stubborn enough to deal with this himself.”

Tadashi groaned, running a hand through his hair and nudging his SFIT cap askew. “All this harassment is really shaking him up, though! I don't think just letting him do this all by himself can be good for him. And I don't have a brother complex!”

“And I don't think smothering him is doing him any good, either,” Gogo said pointedly as she passed by, snatching one of Wasabi's tools. The student yelped and grabbed for the tool.

“No, no, wait, that's—!”

“And besides, Tadashi, you've been trying to get Hiro to be more independent, anyways. This is a good thing,” Honey wheedled, nudging him out of the way and snatching several clear vials of liquid.

“Shouldn't you be working on your semester project?” Gogo asked. “You know, instead of taking up space to complain about a problem that isn't actually that bad of a problem?”

“But it _is_ a problem,” Tadashi argued. Of course it was. How could it not be? His poor little brother was shoved with the nasty end of the stick, what with puberty slapping him a new body, and worse, Tadashi believed Hiro had started to grow into the whole "I'm-too-cool-for-everything-even-my-older-brother-who-cares-a-lot-about-me-and-is-just-worried-but-I'm-going-to-lock-myself-in-the-lab-at-home-we-share-even-though-we-built-that-lab-together-Hiro-it's-not-just- _your_ -lab—but that was beside the point. Hiro was pulling away from him, and Tadashi didn't like it one bit.

The door to the Nerd Lab swung open, and Hiro slouched in, loose hoodie pulled low over his brow. It could have been understandable that Hiro simply wanted to shield himself from the cold—it was December in San Fransokyo, after all—but Tadashi couldn't help but cluck his tongue at the way the his little brother seemed to be drowning in the hoodie, and—

"Is that _my_ hoodie?" Wasabi demanded.

Hiro glanced down at himself in surprise. "Oh, sorry. It was cold outside and I thought you wouldn't mind."

"The thing is enormous on you." Tadashi (does not fret, he just worries) fluttered over to his brother's side and helps the smaller boy tug the hoodie off. "Why didn't you just wear mine or something? For that matter, why didn't you bring a jacket?"

Hiro shrugged, but the unspoken answer remained: None of my jackets fit me right. "I guess I just wasn't paying attention."

Tadashi bit his lip, pressing the palm of his hand to Hiro's brow and shooting Gogo a dirty look when she muttered "brother complex" in a sing-song tone under her breath. He rises to his feet. "C'mon, I still need help fixing Baymax's arm."

"Still?" Hiro demands as he follows his older brother into his private lab.

"What do you mean, still?" Tadashi glances back at him, raising an eyebrow. "What, you think you could do a better job?"

"I know I could do a better job," Hiro scoffs, immediately rising at the challenge. "I just don't understand what's taking you so long, nerd."

"Well, bonehead, unlike you, I have a number of responsibilities—"

 _"Pshyeah,_ like not being able to fix your own robot—"

"—like taking care of obnoxious little brothers who think they're too good for everything—"

"I'm not obnoxious, you're obnoxious—"

"—and actually doing my homework instead of procrastinating till the last minute like someone I know."

"Hey, I get the work done and I get all the credit, don't I?" Hiro opened his arms smugly. "It's not my fault you're so slow."

"Unbelievable." Tadashi shook his head. "Fine, if you don't want to help me, you can shoo."

"But I don't have anything to do," Hiro protested, scrambling up to sit on top of his brother's desk. "Don't you want my company?"

"While I do so appreciate the absolute integrity of our conversations, I feel like your assistance could be better placed helping the other students with their projects." Tadashi grinned when Hiro groaned. "Hey, I bet Wasabi probably wouldn't mind you helping him rearrange his tools again."

"Fine, fine, I'll help you." Hiro slides off the desk and plods over to his side. "But just so you know, I like a little compensation," he said primly. "Like food. Hot chocolate, maybe. With lots of marshmallows."

Tadashi chuckled under his breath, then swooped Hiro up into his arms, pressing one great raspberry into his stomach. "There's your hot chocolate, and"—another raspberry as his brother squealed in shock, squirming and laughing—"your marshmallows."

"Tadashi! No, that doesn't _count!_ No—ACKPTH! _Tadashi!!"_

 _Well, maybe it wasn't quite as bad as it seemed,_ Tadashi thought, and tossed his younger brother over his shoulder, ignoring his demands for both compensation and to be _put-down-right-this-instant-I-swear-I-am-going-to-kick-you-you-stupid-nerd_.

* * *

It takes two weeks before Hiro realizes: _Baymax._

He hadn't seen the medical bot more than once or twice, both times being when Tadashi took the robot home to work on his project; mostly, the puffy marshmallow resided within his brother's personal lab, either deflated in their box or awaiting Tadashi to fuss over them with any number of tools nabbed from Wasabi's station.

Baymax was not yet a professional care robot used in any hospital, but Tadashi had a nursing license under his belt and Hiro had the internet at hand. Baymax had already proven that they could decode and understand genetics from a visual scan—all he had to do was wake them up and get them to scan him again.

Hiro stood at the door to his lab, listening through the crack in the doorframe. He'd snuck down in the middle of the night after waiting for his Aunt and brother to finally fall asleep; from the sound of it, Aunt Cass was snoring peacefully in her room, and judging by the sounds of late-night infomercials blaring on the T.V., Tadashi had fallen asleep on the living room couch waiting for Hiro to leave the lab.

Hiro's hands shook over the door's lock code before he locked typed the digits in quickly, and with a final, resounding _click_ , he exhaled and turned back to the red box Baymax was held in. As long as he was careful and ensured Baymax kept a confidentiality agreement with him, no one would know the wiser.

He grabbed the box and dragged it out to the center of the floor, stepping back and taking a deep breath. “You got this,” he whispered nervously. His fingers twitched, and he bit his lip. “Um—ow?” he said hesitantly, and with a whir and a click, The robot rose from the red box they were contained in, swelling to full height and blinking at him.

Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion.”

“Hi, Baymax,” Hiro said, swallowing hard. “Um—”

“I am responding to a noise of distress. What seems to be the problem?” Baymax waddles over to him, the familiar screen of faces appearing on his belly. “On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?”

“I—Actually, Baymax, that wasn’t what—I mean, could you … um, scan me?”

Baymax blinks before replying, “Scan complete. No illnesses or injuries detected.”

“Hiro sighs in relief. “Okay, Baymax, I know, but—”

“However, your hormone and neurotransmitter levels indicate that you are experiencing mood swings, common in adolescence. Diagnosis: puberty.”

“Well, yes, Baymax, I know that, but—”

“Preparing detailed food, exercise, and medication plan. You will experience—”

“Baymax—”

“—a unique adolescence—”

“No, Baymax, I know, it’s fine, you can—”

“—shared by many other young men with—”

“ _Baymax—”_

“—Klinefelter Syndrome,” Baymax finished, inclining their head. “However, from your response to the diagnosis, I have determined that it is unnecessary to—”

“Wait,. _”_ Hiro’s heart caught in his throat. “I have _what?”_

Baymax paused, blinking. “You were unaware of your condition prior to this diagnosis?”

Hiro stared at the robot, breathing hard. His hands balled into trembling fists; it seems his legs had turned into gelatin. “No,’ he whispered. “No, I didn’t know.”

Baymax launched into a long, painfully detailed description of chromosomes and genetics, but Hiro has stopped listening—he caught “most common aneuploidy that manifests in the extra presence of an x chromosome” and “diagnosis is often during puberty due to the manifestation of secondary sex characteristics”, but Hiro doesn't need to hear any of this to know that his _breasts_ will likely continue growing, that he will never grow out of this mortifying feminine body—

“Hiro. Hiro.”

“Wha—?” Hiro gasped, jolting as a large, puffy hand was placed on his shoulder in a mechanical gesture of comfort.

“This information may be of a startling and confusing nature,” Baymax said calmly, and their belly flickers to life, faces illuminating in bright colour with a small, blinking phone icon. “It is important that you cope with this life development in a safe and appropriate manner. Contacting friends and fam—”

“ _No!”_ Hiro shot forward with a gasp, hands slipping and squeaking against Baymax's screen, and the robot paused to look down at Hiro, blinking. Hiro racked his brain wildly. “I—Baymax, you can't! It's—not—for my mental health! You can't contact anyone, it—would—deteriorate … my … mental condition!”

Baymax blinked and inclined their head. “In order to stabilize your mental condition, I will not contact your friends and family.” They pause. “Error—one contact has received the message prior to cancellation. How shall I proceed?”

Hiro's stomach drops, and he falls to his knees, putting his head in his hands. “Who is it?” he asks quietly.

“Contact is listed under the name Gogo Tomago.”

The boy inhaled shakily, letting out a long, trembling breath. _At least it's not Tadashi._ “Okay. I—”

He jumped as his phone began to vibrate and snatched it up to see Gogo's face on the screen. “He—hello?”

“Yo, Hiro, I just got a notification from Baymax saying that you wanted to talk.” His friend's tone was clipped, an underlying current of worry just barely detectable in her tone. “What's going on?”

“Gogo, it's nothing, Baymax is just—glitching, I mean—”

Her voice cut through his, interrupting. “Baymax doesn't send out calls without good reason, and you don't lie to me unless you have something you're hiding,” Gogo told him with an edge to her voice. “Hiro, just _tell_ me.”

“Gogo—”

“I'm heading over to the cafe. If you aren't at home already, be there.”

Before Hiro could protest, the call ended, and he lowered the phone slowly, eyes burning with tears. _She can't come over._ “She can't come over,” Hiro whispered aloud, and curled up into a ball, mind racing.

What is he supposed to do? Gogo doesn't live that far away, and knowing Gogo, she'd be there in a hurry. She's smart enough to find him if he tries to escape, could track him down if he hid. There is nowhere for him to go, no refuge that he could seek, not when his friend is determined to find him and make him talk.

Sure enough, barely a minute or so later, he could hear the quiet rev of Gogo's cycle and let out a cry of despair, flapping his arms frantically and shoving Baymax towards the door. “Help me barricade!”

He only managed to push a chair or two in front of the door before he heard Gogo's combat boots clacking on the floor to the cafe and pausing, tapping impatiently on the floor before the noise nears the lab. Hiro squeaked in terror, spinning about in circles, and Baymax sat down neatly on the chairs barring the door, inclining their head towards the panicking boy.

“It is all right, Hiro. My weight should be a sufficient deterrent.”

“Hiro?” Gogo's fist pounded on the door, and the boy gave an anguished cry, diving behind an enormous stack of papers and curling up in a ball. “Hiro, open up! Hiro!”

“You have one friend requesting your presence urgently,” Baymax told him. “Shall I continue discouraging her entreaty?”

Hiro buried his face in his legs, trembling. “Please go away,” he pleaded.

“Hiro, either you let me in now, or I will wake up your brother and your aunt and get them to unlock this door,” Gogo told him steadily, her voice barely calm, and Hiro wailed in terror. “Open. The. Door.”

“Baymax, move,” Hiro gasped, and the door shoved open as the robot stood, pressing into the marshmallow-bot's back with a squeak. Gogo shoved her way through, eyes bright, and hurried over to him, snatching his hands and tugging his arms up to eye level.

“ _You barricaded the door?”_ she demanded, and pulled Hiro into a tight embrace. “I thought—don't you _ever_ fucking do that to me again, you hear me?”

Hiro's lip trembled, and he burst into tears, muffling his sobs in his friend's shoulder. Gogo tightened her grip. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry …”

“It's okay.” Gogo exhaled slowly, rocking him back and forth and murmuring softly. “Everything's going to be okay.”

* * *

San Fransokyo Tech may be a university filled with students in their twenties high on their newfound freedom, but at midnight on a Wednesday, in the middle of December, most students are either sleeping off finals or off with their families for the holidays. There beneath the shelter on the warmth of the park bench, Hiro sits alone with Gogo, watching large and wet snowflakes come spiraling in waves to the ground, melting as they hit the pale concrete. The Ito Ishioka Robotics Lab glows in the distance

Now, with snow trickling from the sky in bright, glistening sparks, Hiro felt the anxiety in his shoulders coalesce into a lump in the very center of his being, dark and cold. Besides him sat two steaming cups of hot chocolate, one with crushed peppermint candies sinking into whipped cream and the other with a generous coating of marshmallows at the foamy top.

Gogo took the peppermint and sipped casually, turning her gaze to him. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Hiro, arms hugging his knees, tightened his grip and stared listlessly at the whirling snow that cascaded down from overhead. “I don't know,” he whispered. “I—I thought that it'd just be—I didn't think there would really be … anything, I mean, I was _hoping—_ that I was just, just _imagining_ things—” He released a shuddering breath. “I don't know what I'm supposed to _do.”_

“Well, what do you know about Klinefelter Syndrome?” Gogo asked him. “I know it involves an extra X chromosome to the standard XY karyotype for a male …”

“Typically those with Klinefelter don't ever detect it because there usually aren't any physical symptoms,” Hiro said dully. “Some men don't know they have it unless they try to conceive, since most men with Klinefelter's are infertile.”

“All right, so there's no guarantee that you won't—”

“On rare occasions, physical symptoms appear after onset of puberty,” Hiro told her, burying his face in his legs. “The actual physical appearance is difficult to tell because of how much they vary, but a lot of times, those with present symptoms tend to be taller than most men and have a lankier build, but sometimes—sometimes they're rounder and have more breast tissue.” _Like me,_ he wanted to say.

“I also know that you can treat some of the effects,” Gogo told him, tossing an arm up behind him. “Besides top surgery, there's also androgen prescription, counseling, gene therapy …”

“I guess.” Hiro turned his head away.

Gogo tilted her head back, casting a searching glance at him before sighing. “Listen, kid. I can't pretend to understand everything you're going through, but I will try. You get that, don't you? Whatever decisions you make from here on out, you got me and everyone else your side.”

“I _know,”_ Hiro snapped. “I didn't say—I mean, I'm not—”

“Hiro,” she interrupted. “You also realize that this condition is about one in a thousand, right? Second most common syndrome, second only to Down Syndrome. No, you're not a typical male, but you're not some rare animal in a cage to be ogled at. Any decent person isn't going to look at you any differently.” She knocked him in the side of his head, and he yelped, shooting her a look. “Worry all you want, but this isn't the end of the world. It's just another part of your body. You're not suddenly—less of a man, okay? You're no less of an annoying, obnoxious little shit with Klinefelter than you would be without it.”

Hiro cracked a weak smile. “Gogo …”

“I mean it, kid.” She downed the rest of her peppermint hot chocolate. “Yeah, sure, you got a bit of a feminine body, but so what? Do either Honey Lemon or I need to have perfect hourglass figures in order to call ourselves women? Does Fred need a six pack and a crew cut to be a man?”

“Well, no, but—”

“For that matter, Wasabi's no less of a man regardless of how much of an obsession he has with cleaning products, and your brother's manhood isn't diminished or whatever just because he has a weird attachment to wool cardigans. You say you're a man, then you're a man, and no one's got any right to tell you differently. Got it?”

Hiro reached out and took his untouched hot chocolate, nibbling at the marshmallows. “Okay,” he mumbled, and Gogo rolled her eyes.

“You're lucky it's not cold yet. I went and bought that for you, too, and you were gonna let it freeze out here. Punk.”

“I wasn't going to let it freeze,” Hiro protested. “I was just letting it cool down!”

“Yeah, proof right there that you're a man,” Gogo grumbled. “'Stead of womanning up, you let it sit there and lose half its heat. That cost four hundred yen right there.”

“Then why'd you _buy_ it for me?” Hiro demanded, sticking his tongue out at her.

She snorted derisively. “Because you were _pouting._ Do you even know what your face is right now? Gods, it's no wonder your brother spoils you rotten. You look like a damn puppy with those big sad eyes.” Gogo sobered. “ … You need to tell your brother and Aunt Cass. No, Hiro, you need to tell them,” she said firmly when Hiro winced and looked away. “Actually, I'm surprised you told me first.”

“It was an accident,” Hiro whispered. “Baymax started calling everyone, and I didn't ... stop him in time.”

“So no one was supposed to find out?” Gogo pinched the bridge of her nose. “Well, then thank the gods for Baymax. Hiro, I know you're not comfortable with anyone knowing, but right now that doesn't matter. This isn't something to be ashamed about, but it is something the people who care about you should know about. If you want to keep moving through this, not let this affect you, then—”

“But it _will_ affect me,” Hiro exploded, leaping off the bench and whirling at her. “Everything's going to change. I—I might have to take medication, or—or go to the doctor, maybe even a pyschiatrist, wear weird clothes—gods, Tadashi would flip out—”

“If Tadashi flips out, it's because he's an overprotective idiot with a brother complex, and you know it,” Gogo said calmly. “And there's nothing wrong with taking medication or seeing a psychiatrist. Nothing wrong with wanting and trying to be happy. Hiro, this is how you can feel secure and safe in your body. Either you take that chance, or you let it slip between your fingers and hope that maybe you'll get another window. What's it gonna be?”

Hiro wiped at his eyes furiously, clutching at his arms. “Gogo, I can't— _I can't—”_

“You can,” Gogo said quietly, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. “You can, and you _will._ We can do this together. Okay?”

He made a small, whimpering noise, eyes glassy and jaw trembling, and nodded, letting his head fall forward onto her shoulder. Maybe she was shorter than him now, but he felt like shattered glass and she felt like warmth and solid ground.

“Okay,” he whispered, and her arms came up to rest on his back, softer and more gentle than he'd ever remembered her being. _“Okay.”_

* * *

It was in the wee hours of the morning when Tadashi woke a start to the sound of socked feet padding up the stairs and the door to his and Hiro's shared bedroom shutting with a tiny click, with a somewhat familiar engine revving and hummig in the distance that Tadashi could't quite place. He sat up with a sigh, rubbing his eyes and rolling his shoulders as the soft hiss of the sink turning on just tickled his ears.

It seemed he'd missed Hiro yet again. Another failed attempt to diminish the empty space that had appeared between the two over the past two months. Tadashi carded a hand through his hair, pinching the bridge of his nose. As open and unassumingly different Hiro was at the university, at home he'd always disappear, never coming out to eat or even say hello. Aunt Cass would fill his plate and it would go uneaten, facing an empty chair at the dinner table, and in the morning, the plate would be clean and in the sink with the rest. Somehow he missed his brother returning to their room every night, try as he might to stay awake, but Hiro, without fail, would always be in his bed when Tadashi rose to wake him.

He couldn't really blame anyone else for not noticing. After all, Hiro had spent such a long time sneaking out to go bot fighting in years past that Aunt Cass had learned not to question his absence. None of his friends saw how he'd slip away and vanish into thin air at home. It seemed the only one who could really wonder at how much Hiro was changing was himself, and it seemed that he couldn't do a single thing.

He rose and treaded up the steps quietly, hearing the soft pitter-patter of bare feet on the floor pass by the door and fall silent as Hiro leapt into bed. Tadashi waited there, hesitating, then pushed the door open quietly and moved to the shapeless lump of blankets his brother was half-buried in, sitting gently on the mattress.

"Hiro? You still awake, bonehead?"

The boy gave no response, still as a statue, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and Tadashi's heart twinged. _He's faking it, isn't he?_   "Hiro," Tadashi whispered, reaching out to brush the hair away from his brother's forehead. _He's cold ... has he been outside?_ he wondered absently.

He tugged Hiro into a tight hug and laid back on the bed slowly, letting out a soft sigh at the way Hiro remains too-stiff in his arms. "I'm gonna make this okay," he whispered, and pressed a kiss to the top of Hiro's head. "I promise."

(If he hadn't dozed off after, he would've felt Hiro's shoulders start to shake.)

(But he doesn't, and so when he wakes the next morning, he's left to wonder at the tiny damp spots smeared into the blankets that press against his cheek.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all criticisms and comments are welcome.
> 
> ... unless you're a hater.
> 
> then ... shoo.


	3. The Difference Between 'Who' and 'Whom'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are snicker doodle cookies and hot chocolate with Wasabi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't mean for it to take so long to update
> 
> don't worry guys i'll be quicker i swear

“Be careful getting to your classes. Don't run too fast, okay?” Gogo murmured, tugging at Hiro's shirt. “I don't want you to slip on the ice or something.”

It was quiet on the far side of the Ito Ishioka Robotics Lab, the door to Gogo's personal lab shut tight and locked from the inside. Most of the time, she keeps her space tidy and neat, but now, the few papers and tools scattered across her desk were pushed to the side to make room for a small pile of clothes.

Hiro stood in front of the mirror, wearing a pair of Gogo's baggiest, longest pants that hide the soft, delicate curves of his legs, and a compression top. It was one of Gogo's older ones, when her breasts were far smaller, and it fit Hiro perfectly, though the bright white of it just barely poked out from beneath the collar of his shirt.

“Okay,” Hiro whispered, fingers trailing across the mirror. “Gogo, I look …” He ran a hand over the fabric of the binder shirt that lay unseen under his black shirt, eyes wide with wondrous relief. “My, my breasts …”

“Are gone,” she said softly, slipping an arm around his shoulder. “You look great, kid.”

“I look like a _boy,_ ” Hiro squeaked and flung himself into her arms, shaking as he buried his face in her hair.

Gogo smiled tightly, tightening her grip and stroking the boy's back gently. “Hiro, you _are_ a boy.”

Hiro laughed, sniffling slightly and rubbing his eyes on the dark leather of Gogo's jacket. _“Thank you.”_

“Not a problem, Hiro.” She hugged him tightly and stepped back to ruffle his hair. “Now get to class, you're going to be late.”

Hiro nodded, a bright (if slightly tearful) smile gracing his features before he tossed his shirt and puffy jacket back on and bounded out of the room, barely concealing a giggle. He dashed out of the lab and into the bright sunshine, warm breath bursting in great, billowing clouds from his lungs and into the cold air.

He forced himself to slow down and remember Gogo's warning, practically skipping as he hurried across the cold campus. A few of his fellow classmates called out in greeting, and he waved cheerily, tottering his way past the glass and stone buildings and sticky dust, sliding across sheets of ice with a joyful laugh. He hadn't felt this comfortable in his own skin, this _alive_ for months—it was like a breath of clean, fresh, cold air after spending weeks in a desert.

He strode forward, humming to himself, and yelped in surprise when his feet slid out from under him. With a skidding, scraping noise and a flurry of movement, he found himself with his face smashed into a broad chest.

“Whoa,” Wasabi laughed, stepping back and smiling kindly at him. “As much as I admire your enthusiasm, Q-Phys doesn't start for another half hour. What's the hurry, Hiro?”

“Hey, Wasabi.” Hiro smiled up at him. “I was just gonna set down my backpack and then go out and grab some hot chocolate. I hear there's still some at the cafeteria!”

“Nice. Wasabi rubbed his chin, humming. “You know what? That sounds good right now, actually. Mind if I go with?”

“I dunno,” Hiro told him, grinning. “I don't know if I'm okay with being seen with a nerd.” Wasabi laughed, pretending to look affronted. “I mean, I still want people to think I'm cool.”

“Well, I never.” He huffed and straightened his peacoat, lifting his chin. “I see where your intentions truly lie.”

Hiro snickered, shouldering his pack. “Just let me drop off my things, and I'll be right back.”

The lecture hall was empty, as were most of the seats in the front row, and Hiro tossed his things down at the desk directly in front of the center podium, humming softly to himself. Here was far warmer than outside, and he crossed over to the windows on the far side of the lecture hall to peek out the ceiling-to-floor windows, breath lightly fogging the glass.

Having spent much of his time indoors for the past few months, Hiro hadn't found much time to enjoy the weather. It rarely snowed in San Fransokyo—too warm and wet—but now, high on happiness and the knowledge that _he looked like a boy,_ Hiro wanted to spend all day outside, playing in the snow.

He stepped back and tugged at his shirt, watching the faint silhouette of his reflection in the glass. Hiro had never thought about it before, but having a girlish shape really did make life harder. _People don't harass you in the streets if you don't look like a woman,_ he mused. And sure, he still looked thin and small, but his curves had diminished and his face maintained its boyish shape. Maybe he did look a bit out of place, being so much younger than those around him, but then, when had that not been the case?

He refocused his gaze and glanced down through the window; two floors down, shivering slightly in the icy air, Wasabi stood with his hands in his pockets, patiently awaiting his small companion. Hiro grinned, turning on his heel, and bounded out of the classroom, narrowly avoiding colliding with a startled, book-laden professor as he dashed down the stairs and out the door.

“Let's go!” he cheered, tugging Wasabi along by the sleeve of his coat. “I need my hot chocolate fix!”

* * *

“As much as I question the morality of your decision, I appreciate it nonetheless,” Wasabi told him, lifting his hot chocolate.

Hiro smiled innocently up at him, eyes fluttering. “When am I ever immoral? All I did was ask those people to step out of the way, and they did. It's not my fault they thought I was an adorable little kid.”

Wasabi rolled his eyes, absently scraping the melted chocolate off the edges of his steaming cup and stirring. “Karma is going to make you a hairy, stinky, enormous man-boy in the next year, just you wait. And then you'll have to live without people catering to your every whim.”

Hiro stiffened almost imperceptibly, and then forced a cheeky grin. “Are you kidding? I'll still be ten times cuter than the rest of you all. You can count on that.”

_Where_ will _I be in a year?_ Hiro wondered, index finger nervously tracing the rim of his mug. From what he and Gogo had managed to research, he would grow a more feminine shape and wouldn't be particularly tall. If he started getting hormone treatments, he would progress fairly normally. Would he get his breasts removed? He tugged at the neck of his shirt unconsciously. … Would it hurt?

“Hiro. _Hiro.”_

“Wh—what?” Hiro startled, blinking up at his friend, who looked at him with concern.

“Are you all right? You've been staring off into space for the past five minutes.” He raised an eyebrow. “Did you hear a single word I said?”

“Oh. I—” Hiro blushed. “No. Sorry.”

Wasabi hummed. “Is everything okay, Hiro? You seem … a bit distant. Well,” he amended, “you have for a little while. I haven't asked because I was hoping you would bring it up, but it's been a few months.You want to talk?”

“S'okay, Wasabi, I'm fine.” Hiro adopted a mildly confused look. “Do I really seem that off?”

“Well, only sort of,” Wasabi said hastily, looking embarrassed. “It's just, you haven't pulled any pranks on your brother for at least a month and you haven't messed with any of my tools for weeks …”

Hiro ignored the sharp, nervous prickle shooting up his neck and inhaled his cocoa slowly. “You never know, maybe I'm planning something big,” he said nonchalantly. “We should probably head to soon.”

Wasabi studied him intently, brow furrowed in worry. “Hiro …”

But Hiro had already downed the last of his hot cocoa, ignoring the burn. “I'm gonna go stick this on the conveyor and then head back. See you in class!”

Before Wasabi could protest, he had already leapt to his feet and scuttled away, slipping away through the throng of college students and sliding the mug to join the rest of the dirty dishes on the discard belt. He started as his pocket hummed, tugging his phone out. A new message flashed up at him.

**Hey, Otouto. Don't forget, Aunt Cass needs us home by five today to set up for the party. Love you. —Tadashi**

Hiro swallowed hard as his hands began to tremble slightly. Tonight was Aunt Cass's annual celebration for the coming of the new year, just the three of them. This year, Aunt Cass had invited his and Tadashi's friends to join in on the celebration. Everyone most important to Hiro would be there, and as such, Gogo had talked him into alerting them all to his … condition. If all goes how he and Gogo had planned, Tadashi, Aunt Cass, Gogo, Honey, Wasabi, and Fred would all know he had Klinefelter's.

How was he supposed to tell everyone the truth if he couldn't even concede that something was wrong when they asked him directly?

He'd spent the last few weeks trying to work up the courage with Gogo's aid and encouragement. He'd spent night after sleepless night reasoning with the growing terror bubbling in the pit of his stomach. _Nothing will change for the worse.You are not wrong or disgusting. You are not a freak. The others will see that, too. Everything will be fine._ And every time, the faint whispers of doubts wriggled up from the darkness and burned in his ears, hissing and murmuring.

_But what if they don't? Not everyone is open-minded. And they laughed before, when you came wearing those clothes … who says they won't laugh at you again? What people don't know, they don't understand, and what they don't understand, they fear and hate. Who says that you won't come out of this alone?_

“Everything's gonna be okay,” Hiro whispered, shoulders shrinking as he clutched at his arms. “It's gonna be okay.”

He zipped up his coat, turning to stare out the cafeteria windows to the blinding white skies that lay beyond. Suddenly, the fresh, biting cold air and the enormous piles of snow that pillowed the campus grounds didn't seem quite so inviting anymore.

* * *

“ … and don't forget, your essay on quantum numbers is due next Friday.” Professor Horiuchi glanced up from the sheets on her desk at the quiet murmurs of complaint. “As in, your third essay out of the eight assignments I will give you this semester that could either lower or raise your grade two levels.”

“It's okay, Eliza,” Hiro whispered to the teary-eyed girl who sat beside him, smiling brightly. “I can help you with your thesis, if you'd like.”

“Thanks, Hiro.” She toyed with her notes, sighing. “I just don't understand how I'm not getting any of this. I mean, I can help develop a green alternative to carbon-based synthetics from microbots infused in a semi-gelatinous mixture, but apparently I can't figure out azimuthal quantum numbers.”

“It's okay. I may be able to create microbots using magnetic servos, but I still have trouble remembering when to use 'who' and when to use 'whom'.”

“That's a good point, I guess,” Eliza laughed, nudging him with her elbow as she tucked her notebook into her bag and tossed it over her shoulder. “Hey, you wanna catch a snack? My girlfriend texted me before class saying that Wu's Food was on the west side of campus by the stadium. If we hurry, we can catch it before they leave.”

“The food truck?” Hiro's eyes widened as he shoved his notebook and all his loose-leaf papers into his bag. “That's the one with the curry rice bowls, isn't it? Those are amazing!”

“Don't let too much drool out of your mouth, kiddo,” she told him, chuckling. “Personally, I like their pickled vegetable burgers the best.”

Hiro wavered, nibbling on his lip, before sighing and slumping in his chair. “It sounds great, but I—”

An arm slid around his shoulders before he could say another word, and he jumped and glanced up to see his brother smiling down at him. Twin spots of color blazed high on his cheekbones, nose and ears cherry red. Hiro recognized the scarf he wore as one of Aunt Cass's, a knitted white pashmina stuffed into his puffy black coat.

“Hey, bonehead. Nice to see you, Eliza.” Tadashi gave him a tight squeeze and ruffled his hair, smiling at Eliza. “Came here to pick you up. It's about time we head home to set up for the party.”

“You didn't have to come pick me up,” Hiro mumbled, shifting uncomfortably. “I was gonna swing by the cafeteria and grab some food, I don't think I ate enough at lunch.”

“Well, you are fourteen, your appetite should be increasing,” Eliza said understandingly. Hiro tensed imperceptibly and smiled at her lightly.

“We can stop and get something to eat on the way home,” Tadashi reassured him, grip on Hiro's shoulder tightening. “C'mon, kid. Or would you rather I race you?”

“I'm good,” Hiro muttered, gently nudging his brother's hand from off his waist and pushing past him, hurrying out the door. “See you, 'Liza.”

“Bye, Hiro,” the young woman called after him cheerfully. “You have my number, right? I'll text you about the paper later.”

Hiro hurried down the stairs, struggling to don his jacket with his bag still strapped around his shoulders. “Where'd you park your scooter?”

“Just outside.” Tadashi tugged on his sleeves, helping Hiro slip his arms into them as they walked towards where the scooter was propped up. “You're in a hurry. I thought maybe we could stop by the ramen booth on Fourth. I know how much you love their shrimp cakes.”

“M'fine.” Hiro reached for his helmet, and Tadashi made a soft noise, nudging Hiro's away and looping his arms around his little brother's waist. Hiro barely contained a yelp of surprise and set his jaw stubbornly.

“Hey.” Hiro had never seen him look quite so concerned before; his eyes were laced with worry, the lines of his jaw tense. If he looked closely, the faint set of lines from the crinkle of his brow cast what Hiro imagined would be permanent worry marks. He could almost see a faint glimmer of hurt and confusion flickering in his older brother's gaze, and a flash of guilt stole through his chest. “What's wrong?”

“You haven't really talked to me for weeks—well, months, really,” Tadashi murmured, brushing the hair back from his forehead. Hiro swallowed hard, wondering why the spots that his older brother had touched burned. “I thought maybe you just wanted more space, but it's getting worse. What's going on?”

_Now what?_ He wailed, releasing a shaky breath in an attempt to calm himself down. _Of course this would happen the night of the party, before I'm ready, I'm not ready …_ And how could he be? Tadashi was … everything. He'd taken care of Hiro, had been both the encouragement and discipline, had been the one to hold him close when he was sad and share mochi with in the kitchen. Hiro wanted Tadashi to stay in his life more than anyone else, but now? What guarantee was there? What if this was one problem Tadashi wouldn't help him overcome?

Hiro opened his mouth to speak, hesitating. “I—”

“Hey, kid.” The two jumped, and an officer wiggled his fingers at the two of them, semi-amused and somewhat annoyed. “Listen, I hate to interrupt whatever … special bonding moment you've got going on with your girlfriend here, but you're in an illegal parking zone. If you're not out within the next five minutes, I'm gonna have to give you a ticket.”

A sharp pain jolted through Hiro's chest, and a strangled noise erupted from his throat as he squirmed out of Tadashi's grip, face burning.

“Ah—sorry, Officer.” Tadashi nodded sheepishly, shooting a glance at Hiro. “A-actually, he's my—”

“Why bother?” Hiro grabbed his helmet, jamming it onto his head and shoving Tadashi's at him as he scooted onto the moped's seat. “We need to get home, anyways.”

Tadashi bit his lip, frowning at his little brother, then sighed and nudged Hiro farther up the seat, settling behind him. “We're not finished here,” he murmured in his brother's ear, and Hiro shivered, knuckles white and cheeks burning red.

* * *

“Tadashi, you are a son to me, but I swear I am going to strangle you if you steal one my aprons without asking again,” Aunt Cass said distractedly, pulling a fresh batch of snicker doodle cookies from the oven to cool on the stovetop with quick grace and pecking them both on the cheek as she passed, grabbing Hiro's arm and dragging him to the front of the cafe. “You can go check on the casserole and finish the cupcakes. Hiro, you can put up the decorations in the living room and turn on the radio. Nothing inappropriate!”

Hiro shot her an innocent smile. “I'm never inappropriate, Aunt Cass. Don't you know me?”

“I am not in the mood for your sass, young man,” she trilled, plopping a box into his arms and sweeping past with a broom. “If I see any dirty gestures, I _will_ send you up to your room without dessert.”

“Yes, Aunt Cass.”

“And you, young man, had better get your butt into the kitchen and finish decorating my cupcakes before they get too cold!” She shot a menacing look at Tadashi, who grinned and lifted his hands in surrender as he backed into the kitchen. “Not even wearing that pashmina right,” she muttered under her breath. “If you're going to steal something, at least do it in _style.”_

Hiro hummed to himself as he took off his coat, tossing it up on the rack by the door before snatching up one end of the string of lights. The faint scent of cinnamon, cloves, and orange rind drifted through the door to the kitchen, and he paused to inhale deeply. He hadn't had Aunt Cass's holiday cupcakes for a whole year … There was no way he was going to risk waiting another year just so he could enjoy another ambiguously naughty display in the cafe windows for a couple of hours before Aunt Cass made him take it down.

Everyone would be here in about half an hour, he thought distractedly, looping the string of lights in his hand neatly around the frames of the glass panes. Just half an hour before dinner … He swallowed hard, rubbing his arms unconsciously. He could just see his reflection in the glow of the windows—small and thin, but less curved and soft. He still wore Gogo's compression top, though under his apron, its masculinizing effect seemed slightly diminished.

_It'll be okay,_ he reassured himself, unconsciously wrapping his arms around his torso and squeezing tightly. _Everything will be fine._

By the time he heard the soft whisper of shoes on tile and turned in surprise, there were already arms boxing him in against the window and a face inches from his, and he inhaled sharply, hands flying up to press flat against his older brother's chest.

“You gonna tell me now?” Tadashi asked, eyes burning, and Hiro dropped his gaze, flushing deeply and steeling his jaw. A hand raised to tilt his chin up, forcing him to look his brother in the eye. “Well?”

Hiro felt his eyes water, curling his hands on his brother's chest, but remained silent, lower lip trembling. Tadashi sighed in frustration, letting his head fall forward to press his brow against Hiro's. His hand moved back to cup the back of his brother's head, thumb tracing the shell of his ear. “Otouto, _please,”_ he whispered, and the sudden urge to lean forward on the balls of his feet shot through Hiro—it would be so easy, just to angle his face forward—press his lips against the ones that were so tantalizingly close—

Before Hiro had time to comprehend what it was he was thinking, the bell to the shop door tinkled merrily, and the two jumped, looking up to see an amused Gogo and a giggling Honey step through the door with Wasabi on their heels.

“We interrupting something, lovebirds?” Gogo tugged off her jacket, smirking at the two, and Hiro flushed. Tadashi rolled his eyes with a sigh.

“Wonderful to see you, too, Gogo. Hey Honey, Wasabi. Kitchen's just through the door, I bet you could sneak in and grab a cupcake before Aunt Cass—”

“Oh ho ho, no you don't!” Aunt Cass came hurtling down the stairs, eyes bright with intense fire. “No one is touching anything more than the hors d'oeuvres and the snicker doodles, and if I catch a single one of you stealing one of the cupcakes, _I will eat them all myself in front of you.”_

“Hello, Ms. Hamada, it's wonderful to see you,” Wasabi said cheerfully. “I brought leftover fried mochi from work.”

“Oh, that's wonderful,” Aunt Cass gushed, hurrying to take the Tupperware from his hands. “Ooh, still warm, too.”

“And where did you get this strange idea that we would steal your cupcakes?” Gogo asked, chuckling lightly. “I think after last time, all of us know not to take food before you give it to us.”

Aunt Cass sighed dramatically. “Smart and wise. Why couldn't I have you three for nephews and nieces instead of these two?” She gestured dismissively to Hiro and Tadashi.

Tadashi started. “Hey!” Hiro snuck under his brother's arm, escaping from Tadashi's grip.

“Fred should be here in half an hour, and he asked me to apologize for being late,” Honey said, laughing at Tadashi's wounded expression. “It was really nice of you to invite us, Ms. Hamada.”

Aunt Cass laughed easily, gesturing for them to follow her into the dining room. “Oh, and for heavens sakes, sweetie, I keep telling you three to call me Aunt Cass. Really, it was a pleasure, you know how much I love baking …”

Gogo fell back to Hiro's side as they filed past the living room, slipping an arm around Hiro's shoulder. “You ready?” she murmured in Hiro's ear, and a soft whimper fled his throat as he sidled closer to her.

“I'm scared,” he whispered, and she hugged him tightly.

“It's okay to not do it today if you're not ready.”

Hiro released a shuddering breath, shaking his head fiercely. “No. No, I—I have to.” He let his head fall onto Gogo's shoulder. “I don't know if I could make myself do it if I didn't do it now,” he mumbled. “Gogo, could you …?”

She ruffled his hair. “Of course, kid. Just let me know when you're ready.”

As he did with all his entrances, Fred arrived with grandeur, bringing with him an enormous roll of party poppers and a huge grin spread wide across his face. “Hellooo, people and possibly-humanoid-aliens of Earth! I am here and I am ready to party!”

“Hello, Freddie. Why don't we save the party poppers for after dinner?” Aunt Cass asked kindly, taking them from his hands. “Now, why don't you go wash up? We've already got the gyoza set out, and I should have the o-zoni ready in just a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Aunt Cass!” Fred smiled brightly at her, adjusting his hat neatly and hurrying into the dining room. “Awww, yissss! Gyoza!”

“And a warm hello to you as well, Fred,” Wasabi said dryly, resting his chin on one palm and pointing at the young man with a gyoza in his hashi.

“Hey, _I_ greeted all of you the moment I got here. _You guys_ are the ones who didn't reply.” Fred made a face at him, snatching one up in his fingers and stuffing into his mouth with a groan. “Ugh, these are the best gyoza _ever.”_

“We're all here,” Gogo said under her breath, and Hiro tightened his grip on her hand, feeling his chest constrict painfully. “Let me know when you're ready.”

The rest of dinner was agony. Hiro felt hyper-aware of everything, from every slight shift in position Honey made to the way Tadashi kept glancing at him and eyeing his and Gogo's interlocked fingers, stomach rolling unpleasantly and shoulders set in a tense line as the air in his lungs dissipated and his face burned with heat. It felt almost as if he were being shoved from an icy freezer to a burning oven, and he hunched over slightly, trying to stem the nausea it caused.

“I think I'm going to throw up,” he breathed, clinging to Gogo's shoulder, and she hummed softly.

“Kid, it's okay if you wait on this until you're ready.” Hiro swayed slightly, silent as he shook his head and mumbled incoherently. “Hiro, really, you don't look good …”

“Are you okay, Hiro?” Honey asked in concern, and Hiro squeaked as the conversations around him ceased and all eyes focused on him.

“What's wrong, sweetie?” Aunt Cass put her hand on his shoulder, eyes wide with worry. “You haven't touched your bowl of soup. Are you feeling sick?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out, and he looked at Gogo in panic.

She squeezed his shoulder and scooted her chair closer. “I assume none of you are blind to the fact that Hiro's been a little … off for the past couple months.” She glanced at Hiro, whose mouth opened and closed like a fish, and kept talking. “Well, for the first few months it was just 'avoiding',” she said dryly. “Hiro was a bit worried about the way he seemed to be going through puberty, and decided to … see if his problem was diagnosable beyond 'puberty'.”

“Wait—you went to the doctor's office by …?”Tadashi rose from his chair and hurried over to Hiro, gaze burning into his little brother, leaning over him and pressing a hand to his forehead. “No …” he said slowly, eyes brightening with realization. _“Baymax.”_

Gogo looked at Hiro, who stared down at his lap, eyes glassy. Suddenly everything seemed a bit distant, fuzzy, as if he'd fallen down a hole and had been covered in sand while everyone else stood over him, watching. “Hiro has Klinefelter Syndrome.”

There was a pause, and Hiro lifted his gaze to meet those of the people sitting around him. There was confusion, surprise, and even understanding, but he could not detect even the slightest hint of disgust. Hiro inhaled deeply, slowly uncurling his limbs _See, you were just being silly,_ a voice chided him gently. _Everything turned out okay._ He opened his mouth to talk—

—and collapsed, slipping off his chair and tumbling to the floor in a clatter of noise.

The last thing he heard was the sudden chorus of alarm, voices muffled and sharp like bells, and the bright glow of his brother's face before everything went dark.

* * *

After the initial shock of seeing his brother keel over in dead faint, Tadashi had shot straight to Hiro's side and cradled him in his arms, checking him over fretfully while the others stood nearby. After it was clear that he'd suffered no more damage than stained clothes, they'd tucked him into bed, dressed in fresh pyjamas and cuddled under the sheets before returning to the dining room, speaking in hushed voices.

“So, _syndrome?”_ Fred had asked, crossing his arms nervously. “Is it fatal? Will he be okay?”

“It's not a fatal disease, it's really just an extra X chromosome is all,” Honey said softly. “Typically it doesn't have any symptoms except infertility, but sometimes those with the syndrome have markedly different physical appearances than those without it. Like Hiro.”

“Why didn't I know about this already?” Aunt Cass murmured anxiously, absently cleaning up the table and straightening the chairs. “Something like this should be in his medical records!”

Wasabi tilted his head. “Typically it doesn't become apparent until the people with it test to see why they're having difficulty having kids, or sometimes during puberty when the secondary sex characteristics don't show up like they usually do.”

“I should have been there to help him,” Tadashi murmured, running a hand through his hair. He looked at Gogo. “How … how did you find out?”

“By accident,” she said promptly, popping a dumpling into her mouth. “He wasn't going to tell anyone when he first found out, but Baymax called me before Hiro could stop them, and I came over and found him in your guys' lab.”

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He could've _told_ me. I wouldn't have—what did he think was going to happen? I mean—” Tadashi groaned in frustration. “I could've—done something, anything—”

“It's not easy to tell someone something like that,” Gogo chided, crossing her arms. “He had trouble just asking me if he could borrow a compression top. Which reminds me,” she said off-handedly, “we should probably be getting him some new clothes. Like binders. And he'll need testosterone therapy, for his health. You might want to stick him in therapy too—obviously he isn't doing too well with this knowledge.” She cast Tadashi a glance, as if saying, _And neither are you._

“We'll get Hiro started on all of that right away,” Aunt Cass's eyes shone as she straightened in her chair. “I'll call the doctor's office and we can set up an appointment. Maybe tomorrow, even, or Sunday if we can't make it in then … ”

Honey placed a hand on her shoulder. “And all of us have his back, whenever he needs us. He'll be okay, we'll make sure of it.”

Tadashi glanced towards the stairs, biting his lip. “ … I'm gonna go check on him,” he mumbled distractedly, and hurried up the stairs before anyone could reply.

“Let him,” Aunt Cass said quietly, placing a hand on Gogo's wrist when she moved to her feet. “He won't wake him, he's just … worried. I think maybe he feels like a bad brother for not being there for Hiro these past few months.”

Gogo slumped back in her chair, looking exhausted. “I don't know if Hiro could have handled that. Honestly, I think he could barely handle me knowing. Every time I talk to him, he seems like he's on edge, like just … saying the wrong thing will make him cry. I don't know if I was the best person to handle this, you know?”

“Hey. You did your best, and that's what matters. Hiro will be fine; he's got all of us.” Honey tucked her head onto her shoulder, and Gogo leaned into the touch. “We'll make sure he's okay.”

“I hope so.”

The five settled into a comfortable silence, soaking in the presence of company. Upstairs, Tadashi lay curled around his brother, stroking his head gently as Hiro slept. Through the window, snowflakes trailed listlessly from the sky, twinkling in the faint glow of the lamps lining the streets in the distance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and criticisms welcome.


	4. Poor Decisions Involving Vehicular Activities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Tadashi doesn't know won't hurt him, and Gogo may or may not be a bad influence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ...  
> *bursts into tears*

The tiny Tweety Bird band-aid just peeked out from Hiro's shirt, and Tadashi watched out of the corner of his eye as his little brother tugged it down uncomfortably, his expression drooped in lines of misery. He pulled his knees up to his chest and hunched down in his seat, staring out the window, scooted as far into his corner of the car seat as possible.

This was the second testosterone injection he's had in two weeks—beyond a sudden influx of acne that did absolutely nothing to bolster Hiro's self-esteem, little else of his physical appearance has changed. His mental health seems another matter, and Hiro refused to speak to the psychologist the doctor had referred them to.

It had been years since Tadashi had been to therapy—not since the death of their parents. Hiro had barely remembered them, was only old enough to waddle into Tadashi's bed sobbing about nightmares filled with fire and screaming for a few weeks until his brother's dreams faded peacefully. Tadashi could clearly recall speaking about his own bad dreams with a 3-year-old Hiro burying his face in his chest, smiling shyly at their psychologist.

Now, Hiro, tight-lipped and frozen, had not let anyone touch him for almost a month.

It was odd that he'd never quite realized just how much he was in physical contact with his brother. The hair ruffles, the cheek kisses, the cuddling while working on homework—all of it, gone. Tadashi had never ached to touch his little brother so much, and at a time like this, when Hiro needed the physical comfort the most—needed him the most—he'd refused it completely.

Tadashi was sure that this was somehow his fault. How could it not be? Of all people, even Aunt Cass, Tadashi felt he knew Hiro best. He was the one who had dragged Hiro out of bed every morning for years, kept him out of trouble, made sure Hiro ate enough of every meal and remembered his manners. Hiro certainly didn't depend solely on him, but he was the one Hiro went to for support, the person he'd show all his proudest creations to with a bright smile on his face, wanting his big brother to be proud of him.

Gods, Tadashi was so _proud_ of him.

But he'd lost it, somehow. Maybe he'd forgotten to remind Hiro that he could still come to him for everything, would still support him no matter how old he was or what he did. Whatever he'd done, or neglected to do, now, when Hiro needs to remember how much people love him, he doesn't think he can come to Tadashi anymore.

The car pulled to a stop in the sidestreet behind the cafe, and Aunt Cass turned the car off and bounced out with a cheerful hum. It's always been a tactic of hers to lighten the situation; Tadashi could see the deep-rooted worry crinkling her eyes when she looked at Hiro and in the way she opened the door for him and tugged him out into a hug.

“You're beautiful, sweetie,” she whispered, and Hiro shuddered against her, burying his face in her shoulder before pulling away quickly.

“I know, Aunt Cass. Thanks.”

_He doesn't believe her,_ Tadashi thought miserably, watching Hiro trudge into their house from the garage. He knew the routine—Hiro would hide out in the lab and wouldn't come out until everyone was asleep to eat miniscule amounts, and then he would fall asleep on his laptop. Then Tadashi would carry him sleeping out of the lab long after midnight and tuck him into bed, and when Hiro woke the next day, he would say nothing and dress in silence before heading back down to the lab.

He started as his pocket buzzed and pulled out his phone. “Honey? What's up?”

“Hi, Dashi. Is Hiro doing okay? He just had his second injection, right?”

“Yeah.” Tadashi sighed, leaning against the car. “Obviously there aren't any new changes yet, but we should start to see … more soon.”

Honey made a clucking noise. “Sure, sure. Hey, I was just calling to let you know Gogo's planning on heading up to see Hiro. She said she wanted to take him to see something, just the two of them.”

“R-Really?” Tadashi swallowed and answered, “I—I can ask if Hiro's up for it. It's Gogo, so … probably.”

“Probably.” There was far too much knowing in Honey's tone, and he flinched. “I bet if you really wanted, Gogo would let you go with.”

“It's all right,” Tadashi mumbled. “I'll just—yeah. Talk to you later?”

“Yup. Oh, and Tadashi? Tell Hiro I'm making him his favorite cookies. That should bring a smile to his face.”

“Okay,” he muttered. “Bye.”

Tadashi leaned back on the car, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew he was being irrational. It was unfair for him to be so jealous of Gogo—Hiro was obviously doing far better with her watching over him than without. It didn't have to be him taking care of Hiro and spending time with him and coddling him. No, it was unhealthy and unfair to Hiro to force his company on him where it wasn't wanted just so he could keep watch over a brother that already knew how to take care of himself.

“You don't get to complain here,” he said aloud, and turned to head inside.

* * *

Hiro stared at himself in the mirror, poking dejectedly at a zit right on the tip of his nose. If he popped it, he could end up with a large scar right on the tip of his nose, but it wasn't as if he wanted to go out in public with yet another enormous, swollen red lump on his face.

Nothing had changed in the past few weeks—or at least, nothing he'd wanted to change. Aunt Cass tiptoed around him, most of his friends were talking to him like his grandmother passed away, and Tadashi kept shooting him hurt glances. Now he'd been shoved into the spotlight with everyone treating him like an injured animal in a run-down zoo: something to lament over, to cry about. There wasn't anything wrong with Klinefelter's, right? He didn't have some contagious disease and he wasn't on his deathbed. He was fine. _He was fine._

_It's a lot easier to lie to yourself when you aren't looking in the mirror,_ Hiro thought miserably, tugging absently at his shirt. As he'd discovered, while he may look more masculine with a binder on, it couldn't hide his hips, nor could it suppress the urges to pull and shift the binder or silence the terror that someone would look at him and _know._

“If you're not ready in the next ten seconds, I will drag you out of your room whether you're fully clothed or not,” Gogo called up casually, and Hiro tugged his hoodie on hurriedly, snatching his phone and dashing down the stairs.

Aunt Cass fluttered around him the moment he reached the bottom step, straightening his jacket and trying to flatten and neaten his hair with water, her fingers, and sheer willpower. “Okay, so you have your phone, right? Here's twenty dollars just in case, and I packed you some leftovers in case you get hungry …”

Gogo, dressed in tight black leather, grinned down at Hiro from where she sat on the cafe counter. “I can't believe you're so excited to see me, nerd.”

Hiro managed a tight smile and let her ruffle his hair. “Hey, Gogo. Where are we going, again?”

She rolled her eyes, slipping off the counter with catlike grace and popping her gum. “You realize that when I say, 'it's a surprise', that it's going to be a surprise, right?”

Aunt Cass flitted back and forth before finally tugging Hiro into a hug and chirping, “If you need anything, call me, okay? I need to get back to work.”

Tadashi turned to him as Aunt Cass darted from the dining area and into the kitchen, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Have fun,” he said hesitantly, smiling at Hiro.

Gogo muttered a number of particularly colourful curses under her breath, hissing a word that sounded suspiciously like 'brother-complex'. “I'll be outside.” She trudged out of the cafe.

“Okay,” Tadashi said awkwardly, clearing his throat. “So—just call me if anything happens.”

Hiro avoided his gaze, moving to close the door. “It's okay. I'll be fine.”

“Yeah. I—” Tadashi darted forward and pulled him into a hug; Hiro squeaked into his neck, flinching at the touch. Tadashi buried his face in his brother's hair, and Hiro's heart twisted painfully in his chest. “Be careful, okay?”

“Okay,” Hiro whispered, tentatively resting his head against his brother's shoulder, and Tadashi pressed his head there, stroking gently. He let out a tight, shivery noise and squirmed away, clearing his throat. “—Yeah. I'll be fine.”

“Are you coming or not?” Gogo hollered from just outside the cafe, revving the engine to her motorcycle impatiently. Hiro nodded absently, turning on his heel and toddling out the door.

“So I'm taking you street racing,” Gogo told him casually, tossing him a helmet.

Hiro felt a broad smile creep up his features. “I thought it was supposed to be a surprise?”

She snorted. “Don't tell your brother.”

It was nearly one o'clock by the time Gogo screeched to a stop in front of an old expanse of storage units, all greying, pocked concrete and metal doors that had faded to an ugly, rust-tinged pale green. The place was abandoned, the air tinged with salt and brine, seagulls screeching in the distant bay.

“Not much of a venue,” Hiro commented, hopping off the back of the motorcycle. “And why in the middle of daylight?”

Gogo shoved at his head, rolling her eyes. “We're not at the venue, smart ass, we're here to exchange motorcycles. The venue's down the block.” She strong-armed him out of the way and pulled out a small key from the inside pocket of her jacket, moving to the sagging chain-link fence and shoving the key into a rusty old padlock. “By the way, if you're ever out of my sight, the next time I see you, I'm taking you back home and I'll never bring you to another one.”

Hiro followed her inside, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And who says I couldn't just find my way to one myself?”

She shrugged, popping her gum noisily. “You wouldn't get the special treatment like you would if you came with me. Hang a left.”

“Special treatment?” Hiro trailed after her, cocking his head to the side. “Like … free popcorn?”

“Something like that.”

Halfway into the maze of compartments, past several impressive displays of graffiti, and two units down from one unit that looked suspiciously as if something explosive had wrenched the door off, was a unit whose locking system was broken and whose door was dented and smashed, white paint chipping off to pepper the small chunks of concrete torn from the sides of the unit. Gogo pulled the door up with ease, motioning for Hiro to hurry under the gap she had made, and strode in after him, letting the door bang shut and leave them in darkness.

“I wouldn't move if I were you,” she called out to him, several feet away. “Security system's a little twitchy.” A click, an incessant beeping noise, and a whir of motion brought the room to life, bathing them in bright white light.

The interior seemed far larger than it had outside, the space allowing for several metal tables and high-tech smart boards covered with gridlines and messy sheets of paper with sketches of strange devices.Where there was space, tools and tiny parts littered the tables, the floors, and hung haphazardly on the walls between the brightly glowing screens of the boards.

Before Hiro could take a closer look, Gogo cleared her throat, and he turned to see her leaning against a motorcycle. It was low, thin, and streamlined, black as pitch. Its shape was reminiscent of a beetle, hovering over two large chrome spheres with a low hum. Its handles curved back towards the rear, and on closer inspection, glowed with what Hiro guessed were gear shifts and special features programmed in through touch pads.

“This is incredible.” Hiro ran his fingers reverently along the windshield and fairing, tracing the glittering surface lightly. “How—?”

“Since successful street racing requires stealth, racers design their own vehicles, typically outside of common vehicle norms.” Gogo reached out and squeezed the handles lightly, and Hiro startled and laughed in excitement as it powered up, thin lines of yellow light tracing along its surface. “Most are black, though, since typically races take place in dark areas or a night.”

“How long did it take you to design this?” Hiro waved a hand between the body and the spherical wheels.

“Couple months.” Gogo shrugged. “Would've been faster, but it's not the Nerd Lab at SFIT, so I had to get some parts … specially ordered. In case you didn't notice, a storage unit facility isn't exactly the best place for testing, but it's remote and there's enough space for me to test it out every once in a while. Mostly it's a lot of tweaking.”

“ _Months?”_ Hiro turned to stare at her incredulously. “It took me half a year just to come up with my battle bot, let alone to actually make it! Where did you even get the parts for all this without getting them through the Nerd Lab?”

Gogo waved a hand dismissively. “Like I said, special ordering. But yeah, it's designed for speed, and—” She squeezed the handle twice, and the lines of yellow swirled and reformed into gridlines. “Powered by both solar energy and through motion. Solar to start it, and motion to keep it going.”

“So—are we just going to wheel this out there?” Hiro asked, flouncing around the motorcycle in nervous excitement. “Will—what if we're seen? I mean, it doesn't look like your average motorcycle, you know? What if somebody sees and gets suspicious?”

“Relax, kiddo. We're in the ghettos. No one's going to notice, and if they do, no one's going to care.” She moved away, back turned to him, and the door to the storage unit reopened. “Not about two short-ass Asian kids. If we were black or Latino, sure, but us? Not a chance.”

“You do have a point,” Hiro conceded, following as Gogo wheeled the motorcycle outside into the late afternoon sunshine. “Although—any reason why the fight itself is in the middle of the day?”

“Less cops snooping around the neighborhood.”

“Oh.”

* * *

As Gogo had told him, there were no difficulties getting to the race. What she had failed to mention, however, was that the race itself was located in an underground parking facility owned by some morally ambiguous  _enterprise_ , that two thousand people would be either participating or watching, that Gogo was one of the contestants, and that she also seemed to be one of the people running the entire operation, judging by the way all the scary-looking guards were nodding at her and how they'd let her in without another word.

“Why didn't you tell me you were a crime boss?” Hiro demanded, munching indignantly on the bag of popcorn (popcorn!) that Gogo had tossed him. “I could've made so much more cash from bot-fighting!”

Hiro had been in underground parking garages before, of course, but certainly not one that looked like this. Most facilities didn't have enormous, gaping square holes slashed through each parking level, and he was fairly sure structure guidelines didn't allow there to be quite so many levels. They also tended to having plain concrete walls instead of massive murals and half-finished graffiti art covering most, if not all, of the walls and floors, and more vehicles than people rather than the reverse, and said people tended to be rather more conservatively dressed than the tattoo-covered, neon-plastered, scantily-clad, scarred crowds milling about on each parking level. It did have the elevators and emergency stairs running down each corner—not that most elevators and emergency exits were boxed in by glowing, glass-like touch screen panels, but that was beside the point.

“First of all, nerd, I'm not a crime boss, and second of all, just because I help run debatably legal racing activities does not mean I'm involved in bot-fighting.” Gogo leaned back against a support as a crowd of racers rushed by, all hurriedly tying their hair back and nervously plucking at their leather clothing.

“And what about the street racing?” Hiro waved a disgruntled hand about, sending several kernels flying. “I could've been indulging in illegal activities while munching on buttery popcorn for _months—”_

“Hey, it's not like these things happen every other weekend, they take a while to plan out—”

“Or competing! I bet could build a decent motorcycle given enough time—”

“And it wouldn't matter how good at building or racing you are,” Gogo finished, glaring at him pointedly. “Just because this is organized crime doesn't mean it's fair.”

Hiro blinked. “Then … why are you racing if it's rigged?” His eyes widened. “Oh.”

Gogo smirked, stealing the bag of popcorn and dumping half of its contents into her mouth. “That's right, kiddo,” she said through a mouthful of food, “I'm going to cheat a bunch of criminals, and you're going to watch.”

“Won't you get caught, though?” Hiro hissed, glancing around nervously. Scattered around were large, intimidating guards, all heavily tattooed and scarred, arms crossed as they glared at those who passed by. “Especially if this is being run by a mob.”

“Unless said _enterprise_ is paying me to do it,” Gogo said airily. “No money lost if it's their own racer who wins, right? And even if I lose, no big deal. A third of these racers are part of the business, anyway, it's not like the odds are in the favor of the newbies and the outsiders. A lot of them are just doing it to garner favor with the top boss.” She nodded towards her right, where the largest congregation of people were huddled in a circle next to the closest elevator up.

Hiro peered through the tops of the crowds and cocked his head to the right. “ … Which large hairy guy is it?”

Gogo snickered. “None of them. Those are her bodyguards and a dummy.” She glanced about, then nodded in the direction of a group of paisley-clad men and tall, giggling women leaning on their arms. “She's the one over in the neon green dress that looks like she just got out of someone else's bed. Not that you'd ever know, which is the point. The only other people here who know that she's the real boss are me and maybe one of those scary bodyguards.”

Hiro frowned and squinted. The crowd parted just enough to catch a fleeting glimpse of a stunningly beautiful woman in a tiny dress so bright it seemed to glow against her dark skin, running a hand through her curly hair, with sharp, intelligent brown eyes and an ever-present smirk tinging her lips. Despite her intimidating aura, she could have been an average girl-next-door that grew up in suburbian America if it wasn't for the massive, heavily scarred men and women stationed beside her. “Have—I seen her before?”

“It's Andaiye Williams. She looks familiar because you've seen her not only on campus but on the news,” Gogo said casually. “She's got two doctorates, one in computer science and one in biomedical engineering, and about to earn one in medicine and another in surgery. She's also the one who redesigned working legs for that Iranian soldier they rescued from drowning.”

Hiro hummed thoughtfully, stuffing another handful of popcorn into his mouth. “The one that escaped from Guantanamo Bay and posted that video all over the internet?”

Gogo smirked. “That one, yes. She's why the feds can't erase it—not that they'll ever find that out. But yeah, this is her gig. And if I win it, I get a decent buck and the ear of one of the top crime bosses in the world.”

“Can I help?” Hiro asked eagerly. “You're probably gonna need more than one genius brain, y'know?” he added quickly, pressing as Gogo snorted. “I mean … things happen. What if you need backup?”

“Sorry, kid.” she finished off the rest of his popcorn. “I don't want to risk taking you home in a doggy bag and deal with your brother's sad puppy eyes.”

“But I'll get bored,” Hiro protested. “What—what if I accidentally wander off and get myself into trouble?”

She rolled up her sleeves and brushed her hair out of her face. “Then I guess that sucks for you. C'mon, I've got some of the best seats in the house.”

“Gogo? Why are we going towards the scary looking gang members?” Hiro hissed as she led him towards the group surrounding the mob boss. “Shouldn't we stay back there? Where I'm less likely to get knifed?”

“I need to speak with the boss. Don't worry, we're not going to get stabbed trying to talk to her,” Gogo added at Hiro's dubious glare. “It'd be a bit weird for us to get attacked for talking to an 'escort' instead of the 'boss' over there, don't you think?”

She was right—no one came to stop them, and the woman spotted them before they were even fifty paces away and came to meet them before they reached forty. “Gogo!” The girl's voice was friendly, lighthearted, and unassuming—the man she was supposedly escorting appeared not to have noticed that she had left his side. “Thought I saw you floating around here. It's good you're here, the competition's about to start.”

“Of course, Boss. You ask, I'll be there.” Gogo nodded over her shoulder. “This is Hiro. You remember the Foxtail match back last April?”

“You're Babyface?” the woman burst out laughing. “I should have guessed.”

“ _Babyface?”_ Hiro glared at Gogo indignantly.

“Street name you earned, kiddo,” the boss told him, smirking at him. “You've got a reputation for appearing cute and innocent despite being a cocky little shit. Some of my business partners weren't too happy with how their underlings' bots came out of the fight.”

Hiro flushed and chuckled nervously. “W-well, I mean—it's not my fault they weren't as good as they thought they were. I just have beginner's luck on my side.”

“Yeah, not to mention a bot made of magnetic servos and the IQ level of a prodigial genius, as well as an older brother to help you out when you run into trouble.” The corner of her mouth quirked up in a smile. “I'm surprised you don't recognize me from all the matches I attended. I was sure I'd made a lasting impression on you after West Alley.”

Hiro gasped. “You're _Foxface!_ The, the one with—”

“The electromagnetic snake bot with the prehensile body,” she finished. “You're pretty good at bot-fighting, kid.”

“So are you,” Hiro told her incredulously. “You're the only one who's ever beat me. Everyone who's ever fought you always said it was an honor to let you crush their robots.”

“Years of practice, kid.” She shook his hand. “Andaiye Williams, head of the Western Lotus Clan and organizer of this gig.”

“Hiro Hamada,” he stammered. “Uh, college student and ex-bot-fighter.”

“Ex? Oh, your brother probably convinced you to quit, huh?” Hiro's cheeks burned. “Yeah, that's what I thought. Bet he showed you the Nerd Lab at SFIT and introduced you to Professor Callaghan.”

“Y-yeah.”

She nodded sagely. “Your brother talks about you a lot. Mostly bragging, but some of it worrying. Glad you enrolled.”

“I—” Hiro swallowed. “I didn't realize. He—brags about me? What does he—uh, what does he say about me?”

“Typical brother stuff. 'My brother Hiro's so smart, he really should be in college', 'as I was saying to Hiro the other day', 'I wonder if Hiro would like this' … I'm sure it must be tiring.”

“What?” Hiro blinked distractedly. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, it gets annoying sometimes. Pretty … annoying.” He trailed off slowly, eyes growing distant.

Andaiye regarded Hiro, one eyebrow quirked and eyes narrowed slightly. “Yep. Anyways, it's nice to meet you, Hiro.”

“Mmhm.”

“I'm glad Gogo brought you.”

“Mmhm.”

“Right, right. I eat cotton balls in my spare time.”

“Mmhm.”

Andaiye smirked at Gogo. “You were right, Gogo. I've never seen a brother complex this bad. I mean, I knew it was bad just because, uh, I've met Tadashi, but I didn't realize you weren't kidding when you said it was mutual.”

“You wouldn't believe the trouble I had to go through trying to keep his brother from tagging along,” Gogo grumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Anyways, I need someone to keep an eye on him. As I'm sure you're aware, Boss, this little shithead isn't exactly the most obedient or innocent little kid around. If you've got a free thug roaming around …”

“Oh, don't worry, Gogo.” Andaiye's gaze flicked up and down Hiro. “I'm sure he'll be wonderful company. I can watch him.”

Gogo looked doubtful, but shrugged. “Whatever you say, Boss. Hiro, stay here or I'm telling your idiot brother you ran off and I ended up having to search for you for hours. Oh, and by the way”—Gogo knelt and pulled a small butterfly knife out of her boot, tossing it at Hiro—“in case things get nasty and I'm not there right away.”

(It was a brand-new blade and she'd bought it just for him, but he didn't need to know that.)

* * *

Gogo adjusted her helmet and pushed up the sleeves to her leather jacket, rolling her shoulders and arching her back.

The course was simple: make it to the bottom of the building and then be the first back up. The only rule was that there were no rules (surprise, surprise), although there was a strong suggestion to not harm any of the crowds watching the race on all the floors, which included doing anything that could create severe structural damage and kill everyone in the building. Killing the other contestants was also discouraged, as body trails were difficult to cover, particularly in large numbers. (Regardless, cameras were posted all throughout the garage just to make sure no stray bodies were left to rot.)

Honestly, of all the things Gogo was most worried about, it would be the small-for-his-age teenager prancing about excitedly next to a (thankfully amused) mob boss. He was going to fall over the side of the concrete wall if he wasn't more careful.

No, there wasn't any reason to be nervous about the competition; at least, not this time around. Most of them were newbies, anyways—none of their motorcycles had any special adjustments besides speed. The few that did belonged to bikers she knew had nothing on her racing skill.

Not the money, the favors, or even the glory mattered today. She was winning for Hiro, and nothing was going to get in her way.

“Racers at your ready,” the starter called, raising her pistol into the air. Gogo hunched over, keeping her frame pressed close to her bike, and tightened her grip on the motorcycle handles, a low hum vibrating throughout the body as it bled bright yellow lines across its surface.

There was a pause, lasting only a second, and the world slowed down as she squeezed the handle. Gogo shot forward, motorcycle growling quietly, shapes in her peripheral falling behind. The first ramp to the next floor came into view, and she zoomed towards it, ready to fly down the tunnel, hand reaching into her pocket—

And swerved at the last minute, coasting along the wall as the other riders shot past, motorcycle slowing in speed just enough for her to rip out the wires in the lightbox as she shot beside the elevator. With a resounding crash and a slowing whir, accompanied by loud screams, the entire building went black. Gogo grinned beneath her helmet, and flickered her fingers, letting her bike light up bright yellow. She shot towards the nearest hole, and as the crowd parted, dodging and flinging themselves out of her way, Gogo caught sight of the other racers, appearing around the corner where the last floor's ramp led down. She plunged her bike head-first into the hole, ignoring as the throngs of people screamed and scurried after her bike or away before it, landing with a hard, bumpy screech two floors down.

She turned hard, drifting for a moment before shooting forward again and plunging into the nearest hole after, making it three holes down, then four, then three again, barely making it to safety on the ground beside each orifice, landing with resounding crashes and heavy jolting. _Eight. Thirteen. Fifteen. Eighteen._

_Twenty._ Gogo landed hard on the bottom floor with a resounding echo, swerving to avoid hitting a panicked man covered in muscles and tattoos, and shot around the lot in a broad, sweeping curve, shooting up a ramp to the right that led the way back up.

She squeezed the handles hard, and bright colors blossomed across the smooth black surface of her motorcycle— _eighteen_ —spiraling outwards from the handles in glowing waves, nearly blinding; a perfect warning to keep both other racers and the audience out of her way— _sixteen_ —as she soared through each level— _fourteen_ —to ground level of the parking building.

The other racers appeared in front of her without warning, a clump of brightly coloured vehicles swarming about, battling for the head. Gogo roared out a warning, and with several gasps, curses, and terrified bellowing noises, she shot straight through the mob as they swerved desperately, parting like the Red Sea, nearly flinging themselves out of the way. _Thirteen._

Ten. She could hear the other racers scrambling to catch up, engines revving in the distance. She paid them no mind— _seven_ —her win was inveitable. _Five._ She could just imagine the look of shock and excitement on Hiro's face … _Three_.

_Two._

_One._

Gogo let out an exhilarated whoop as she broke onto the first floor, meeting stunned, scattered applause, and the sound of someone shouting uproariously as she soared through the finish line and screeched to a stop fifteen feet away.

The moment she rose from her bike and tugged off her helmet, a small body rammed face-first into her front, and she laughed as she steadied herself, wrapping her arms around an excitedly babbling Hiro.

“That … was … _amazing,”_ Hiro gasped, practically flinging himself about in excitement. “How—I don't even know how to describe it, that was—you didn't even—”

“Stop to take a breath, nerd, you're more worked up than I am.” Gogo ruffled his hair fondly. “Told you I'd win, hands down.”

“I didn't think you'd win like _that,”_ he yelped, wringing his hands about and flinging the contents of his bag of popcorn everywhere. “That was a _trip!”_

Someone tapped on her shoulder, and she found herself dragged up by the shirt to meet the snarl of the vicious, heavily scarred, pocked face of Boss's dummy.

“Hey, Anderson. Er, sorry, _Boss._ Grip's a little stronger than usual. You been working out?”

“That was dangerously stupid and altogether priceless,” he murmured, the dark, sinister scowl on his face utterly incongruent with the amusement in his voice.

Gogo winced in pain. “Couldn't be a bit more gentle? Boss?”

“And risk it that anyone finds out about your little deal? You probably could have died, you know.”

The crowds had gone nearly silent, whispering nervously at the sight of the biggest crime boss in the West growling into the ear of a clearly uncomfortable Asian woman not even two thirds his size. “And therein lies the fun, Boss. I won, didn't I? I get my reward.”

The dummy's eyes flickered to Hiro, who was still chattering excitedly and flailing around. “You mean the ten thousand, of course.”

“Only ten? With that performance, I'd say I deserve at least a million. I'm done here, right, _Boss?”_

“Go to a sushi bar and get drunk on sake if you want. Though I wouldn't recommend it, knowing this kid's brother. Your time is eighteen minutes and forty-two seconds, by the way.”

“Good. That's five minutes better than last time.”

Anderson released Gogo, backing away and shaking his head. He eyed Hiro. “And besides, you won a lot more than just ten grand, didn't you?”

Gogo cast a glance at Hiro, who was dancing about and gesturing madly, apparently unaware that Gogo had not listened to a single word he had said for the past few minutes, and found she couldn't agree more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update won't be so long. I swear. Pinky promise.
> 
> Probably.


End file.
